Growing
by xlawa
Summary: --"You both have entered an entirely different world," Todd declared lowly.-- One evening, Mrs. Lovett experiences torture not unlike Lucy Barker's. A story of rape, betrayal, and passion. Soon to be Sweenett.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sweeney Todd, and much to my despair, never will. That being said, I wouldn't worry yourself with ownership.  
A/N: Let the journey begin...**

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Chapter One

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Nellie Lovett wasn't sure if she was shivering or trembling, but she whimpered nonetheless, not feeling the thick comforter being tucked around her. She was very much lost, mentally at least, not being able to grasp at where she was. All she could focus on was her head pounding heavily, her eyes swollen. Her mind was a foggy mist, nothing clear, only now realizing that her eyes were closed. After what seemed like ages, the baker forced herself to open her eyes.

Despite her blurred vision, she could make out a roaring fire crackling not too far away. The roaring fire...in her dusty old fire place. The fog slowly began to lift.

She was home, wrapped lightly with duvet that she kept in her parlor. Toby was kneeling close by, holding onto the hem of her dress tightly in his small hands. Tears shimmered in his wide, worried blue eyes. His brown hair was disarray and he looked like the young thing he was, for once, almost feeble as he gazed up at Nellie.

"Mrs. Lovett," spoke a gentle, husky voice from her side. Nellie turned her head in a weak motion to gaze into a pair of dark, uncertain eyes. It only took a moment to conceive that it was Sweeney Todd who was giving her this wavering glance, he who was now holding her trembling frame.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the memories were pushed into her consciousness and her chin quivered in horror. "Oh, _no_," she sobbed, only to hear her voice crackle, nearly gone. Nellie's eyelids fluttered, bleak images flashing behind them, overly vivid...

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_Five Hours Earlier_

"_You_, Widow Lovett," the booming voice snarled, "are the world's greatest mistake." He was slowly advancing on her with wobbly legs. Nellie took a step back instinctively to only be stopped by a set of large, black iron gates. They let out a sly creak at her touch, like high pitched laughter. Hauntingly, the man's lip curled in disgust. "Your contradicting name suits you," the shadowy figure mumbled, his words dripping with an intoxicated hatred.

The man's vicious green eyes locked with hers. Mrs. Lovett stiffened and she shot him a defensive look. "Who are you?" she inquired in a hiss.

It was too dusky to make out who the man was, as he walked slowly toward her in this grimy alley way. In a hurried attempt, Nellie studied him. He was of average height, broad shoulders adding to his hardy stature. His short hair seemed to be hastily combed over to one side. The clothes he wore were sharp and clean and the tails of his dress coat blew ominously behind him. She saw his hands clench at his sides, those broad shoulders heaving veraciously.

The figure wouldn't answer her, making Nellie feel a bit insecure as he gave her a blazing glare, full of accusation. It wasn't every day that an angry man trapped you in a deserted corner of London. Nevertheless, she set her jaw and stood tall. A fierce wind began to blow, and she held onto the skirts of her dress to steady herself.

"Who are you?" she demanded of him again, her voice sharp and clear.

All very quickly, the man lept at her. He grasped at her neck with a strong, large hand, inducing a strained gasp from Mrs. Lovett. In an instant, she could make out exactly who her enemy was.

Judge Turpin leaned close to her ear and Nellie could feel his unshaven jaw brush against her cheek. His breath was laced heavily with whiskey. She tried to yell but couldn't with the decreasing amount of air. "You are worthless, nothing but a pebble in ones shoe." He paused, his grip tightening. Nellie desperately attempted to pry his hand from her neck, her large brown eyes clouding with fear.

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be married to Lucy!" His deep voice shook with a wild fury and she shuddered. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't of sent Benjamin Barker away. You were the one that helped him live in this bloody town, you were the one that allowed him to meet Lucy--" Turpin's words were cut short, though, as Nellie found it now a suitable time to knee him forcefully in the groin.

He suddenly let go of her neck, falling to the ground. Mrs. Lovett's chest heaved and she took in a gasping breath, running aimlessly away from this madman. "Mr. Todd!" she yelled despairingly, only around the corner from her pie shoppe. All she had been doing was getting some taffies for the boys. It was all she had been doing...

Turpin glanced up her retreating form and let out a drunken yell, scrambling to his feet to run and grasp her roughly by the shoulders. He threw her quickly back to corner of the alley way and Mrs. Lovett wailed again for Mr. Todd, Toby, anybody. Her head collided painfully with the iron gates and then again with the cold ground. She let out a horrible moan but still tried to scoot away from the enraged man. Nellie was stopped abruptly by a sharp kick in the stomach, making her exhale with a pained sob.

Judge Turpin fell somewhat to his knees to place a cold hand over her mouth. His other hand grabbed onto some of her curls to move her head closer to his. "You will not make a sound," he slurred, appearing to put forth a weak effort of sobering up. "If you do, I will surely make it so you are hanged in the next hour. Understood?"

Hot tears fell from her eyes that glared up at him. Turpin waited for a moment and when she still didn't comply, he shook her. "_Understood?_" he repeated fiercely, causing Mrs. Lovett to nod suddenly, coming out of her furious stare.

Turpin studied her face, not removing his hand from her mouth. After a breathless moment, a horrible grin graced his masculine features. "This will be over soon," he murmured in false sweetness. The way he had spoken made Mrs. Lovett realize that this wasn't the first time he had said this to a woman. Then, to Nellie's horror, he greedily began to rip at her brand new dress.

The process was terrifyingly perverse. If she tried to get out of his grasp, he would send a blow to her head. If she made a sound, another blow. For a good few minutes all Mrs. Lovett did was struggle to get away from him: kicking, punching, clawing, yelling. Still, all Judge Turpin did was beat her senselessly, again and again in the same areas until she was weak underneath him.

Running a hand through his sweaty hair, he gave her feeble state an amused smirk. "Feisty one, aren't you?" he rasped breathlessly as Nellie fell into a violent coughing fit. Turpin watched as she wheezed, hovering over her in a dominating position. "There, there, Widow Lovett," he cooed lowly, tracing a manicured fingernail across her somewhat bruised jawline.

Mrs. Lovett was revolted to say the least. She wanted to yell and beat and pummel, but couldn't. Her eyes half-closed, she found herself unable to move. All she was able to do was cry, her mocking tears filling her fierce but tired stare. But Nellie Lovett did not cry. She wouldn't loose that amount of dignity that she was clinging so desperately to.

She flicked her gaze to the sky, praying silently for some kind of higher power to help her just this once. All the while, Turpin whispered words of soft vulgarities, his low voice full of mirth. She squeezed her eyes shut as the man groped and kissed her, wishing and praying some more that she would simply fall unconscious. And yet, once the cruel Judge had made it so Nellie was almost fully exposed to himself, a terrible thought raced into her head:

Lucy Barker had been put in the exact situation fifteen years ago.

She felt a sudden guilt wash over her and it was only then that she began to cry.

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**A/N: You may call this an introduction, if you'd like. Or, maybe not. I'm not very decisive. Please review? It will only inspire me to write more and more :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you all for such wonderful reviews, I'm quite flattered! I'll try to write and update as often as possible.  
****For all you hopeless romantics; this will not be a fic where Sweeney Todd is suddenly Benjamin Barker and they're making love in the first ten sentences. This is nothing of the sort, but not to worry, their relationship will develop in time.  
****Just another note- I tend to write somewhat out of order, please tell me if I'm being too scattered :)****

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Chapter Two

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_Yesterday Evening_

Tobias Ragg stood idly at the shoppe's window, gazing out at the windy London evening. It was something he did after his cleaning was done for the day. Though a normal, happy look usually played upon his lips, tonight it was curved into a worried frown. His Mrs. Lovett had been out for much too long, he concluded, trying to catch a glimpse of the black billowing skirts that Mrs. Lovett wore so often. The time passed slowly and Toby ached, wishing to see his mum's gracious smile. It was a bit past dusk when he moved from his place and grabbed his edgy brown jacket.

Stepping out into the blowing cold, Toby pushed his hands into his pockets and walked out into the streets. His intuitive eyes scanned the dark shops on Fleet Street and he watched their owners blow out the candles from their windows. A little hesitant, Toby began walking into the night. "Mum?" he called out in a small, nervous voice. His face flushed and he began to shiver lightly. "Mrs. Lovett?" he called out again, receiving no response.

It was then when he heard the screams. The moment the sound hit the air, Toby knew something was wrong. There was a distant wailing from somewhere, off to the left. He quickened his pace, a haunting certainty to his gait. After hearing cry after cry become louder, Toby turned corners of streets, desperately trying to find where the trouble was. "Mum! Mum, I'm coming!" The small boy yelled, his voice frightened but determined.

Turning just one more corner, Toby spotted the scene. A large man in fine clothing was hovering over something, working himself onto it. The man shifted his body and Toby let out a horrified wail to find the beaten body of Mrs. Lovett underneath him. Judge Turpin turned around quickly at the sound, and Toby hid in the shadows. Turpin clasped a hand over Mrs. Lovett's swollen lips and kept very still, narrowing his eyes at the darkness behind him. Once he was sure that no one was in sight, however, he turned back with a smirk and continued.

Then, very slowly, Toby picked up a few broken pieces of brick from the side of the building he was up against. He crept toward the man, a daring glare in his eyes. After a chilling moment, Toby let out an angry scream and jumped onto the man, beating him over the head with the brick.

Turpin groaned and ended up rolling away from Mrs. Lovett's idle body. His face was bloody and he couldn't make out who was attacking him. He tried to push Toby off but the boy had firmly wrapped his legs around Turpin's waist. Toby, caught up in his protective fury, gave the man what he was asking for. Over and over again Toby smashed the broken brick into Turpin's skull until he lay motionless beneath him.

Toby hastily dropped the brick once his job was done and rushed over to Mrs. Lovett's body. In the dim light of the moon, he could tell she was mostly naked and badly bruised. He felt tears prick at his eyes and he took off his jacket, placing it on top of her. His mind racked on how he was going to bring his dear guardian to safety. He couldn't drag her across town, that would be ridiculous. He placed a shaking hand upon her pale cheek, his thumb grazing over a bruise gingerly.

Just then, Toby heard a scuffling of a trash can from behind him. He whipped around, ready to hurt, to _kill_ whoever had used Mrs. Lovett so badly. The fierce boy stood, his hands in fists at his sides, to see the figure of a man standing not too far away. Toby charged at him, assuming it was Turpin, but he was thrown off by a few calm words.

"It's me, Toby."

He was only a foot away from pummeling the man when it clicked in Toby's head. His eyes lit up in relief but were then flooded with anguish. "Mr. Todd, mum's been beatin' awful bad, sir, you gotta help me--there was a man but I fought him off but Mum's not moving, Mr. Todd!" He continued to babble on helplessly, frightened tears finally streaming down his cheeks.

Sweeney Todd's face was impassive as he placed a hand on Toby's shoulder. He looked behind him to see the idle body of Mrs. Lovett in the corner. His eyes darkened a little and he walked over to her. Kneeling beside his accomplice, he tried to process what was happening. Beginning to lift her frail body in his arms, he saw Toby's shadow beside him. "A man, you said?"

Toby opened his mouth to curse the man who had used Mrs. Lovett, whoever he was, when he noticed something vital. _Where was the bastard?_ He spun, looking closely from where he had left Turpin's body to the shadows surrounding them. "H-He's..gone! I had knocked him unconscious, I did, right there," he pointed desperately to the ground where some smears of blood could be seen. It was almost like the devil's canvas, the floor was. Toby shook his head, still a bit shocked. "But he was ontopa Mrs. Lovett, sir! He was hurtin' her real bad." Tears began to form in his eyes again.

Toby looked over to see Mr. Todd carrying Mrs. Lovett's body gently in his arms. He was staring at her face closely, a faraway look in his eyes. "Mr. Todd?" he asked in a quiet voice.

Sweeney's eyes flicked up at him sharply. "Come on, boy. She needs care."

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Four hours later, Sweeney found himself sitting in Mrs. Lovett's rocking chair, a little tense. His pale, delicate hands gripped the wooden arms of the rocker firmly as he stared out into the upcoming morning. Despite the hour, he still adorned his usual attire: a worn, white long sleeved shirt, black pinstriped trousers, scuffed black shoes, a rough brown vest with cold buttons, and his edgy dark necktie. There was no need to change into something more comfortable for the man never slept. He didn't need to sleep. Sweeney Todd's existence was thought, rage, and blood. As long as he had these three things, nothing could stop him from being the demonic maniac he was.

He also found himself glancing again at the sleeping individual on the couch in front of him. Mrs. Lovett hadn't awaken once since he had brought her back home, and Mr. Todd often felt the itch to get up and check her pulse. But he knew she was okay by the way her chest lightly rose and fell with every breath. Shifting his glance back to the London street's, he replayed the events from earlier in his mind.

After sending Toby to bed wordlessly with a strong stare, he had placed her on the sofa, closing the curtains before attending to her wounds. Sweeney ignored the fact that he was seeing her naked body as he cleaned and bandaged the horrible cuts that were scattered across her pale skin. Whoever had done this to her must of had some passionate hatred to cause such harm to someone's body. Sickeningly, Sweeney almost felt laughter rising in his chest.

_Quite contradicting for a murderer to ponder motivations of violence_, Todd thought, a sharp breath taken by his patient drawing him from his muse.

Mrs. Lovett's eyes were shut tight as she began to cough. Mr. Todd felt awkward now, hovering over her naked body with a roll of gauze and gin.

"Mr. Todd, I'm so sorry..." he heard her rasp through her coughing fit. Sweeney gave Mrs. Lovett a puzzled, ashen look. He opened his mouth, wanting to question her apologies, but she swiftly fell back into her unconscious slumber. The tired man gave a deep sigh and continued wrapping some gauze around her wrist.

Even though he didn't meet the aching distress of young Tobias, Todd did feel bad that Mrs. Lovett had to endure something so ghastly. He had been able to tell that she was raped, horribly enough, by where her dress had been ripped and other obvious physical signs. Once he was done with her wrist, he stopped, his dead eyes gazing upon her. Aside from her wrist, there was a large gash on her hip, dark bruises on her arms and legs, some deep scratches by her chest and neck, and a nasty cut across her cheek. He frowned and stiffly walked over to Mrs. Lovett's bedroom to fetch something for her to wear. It was strange, having to care for her like this. Yet, something in the back of Sweeney's mind told him that if he didn't do all that he could, he wouldn't ever be able to forgive himself.

He gently pushed open the door and hesitated in the doorway, feeling as if he shouldn't be venturing into her private areas. What he was he kidding, he knew that Mrs. Lovett would have _adored_ if he came into her bedroom. With that thought in mind, he took a bold step inside.

He walked to the far window and opened the shades to let some light into the room. Turning around, Sweeney Todd made a face as he studied her small quarters. Her bed was made neatly at the left, a soft dark red comforter tucked warmly into it's frame. Beside it, to his surprise, was a large book case with a vast collection of works of fiction, poetry, and romance. Todd raised his eyebrows. He _did_ often see her with some sort of book in the evenings that he gave her his bloody laundry. Dismissing the thought, he walked over to her small wooden dresser against the right wall.

Opening the top drawer, he looked slowly looked inside. Neatly folded were some dressings and a few thin nightgowns. He began to imagine Mrs. Lovett standing where he was, late in the night, as she gently undressed and stepped into these fancy little numbers. Startled at where his vivid imagination was taking him, Sweeney hastily grabbed a nightgown at random and left the room quickly.

Seeing Mrs. Lovett in front of him now, his mind began swirl with the same unfamiliar images. It was now that he noticed the curves of her body, how soft and warm her skin was even though she had been taken from the cold. Her auburn curls were out of it's clips and she looked different now in the dull candle light. He stood there, almost ogling at her sleeping figure, a strange emotion arising from within him. Yet another thing that was unfamiliar to Todd, this strong desire that was building up. A desire for comfort. He suddenly felt cold, colder than usual in this small parlor, staring at his naked landlady--

"Mr. Todd, sir, what are you doing?" Toby asked from behind, his voice sleepy.

Mr. Todd didn't admit to himself that he jumped a little at his voice, but he did spin around. Toby stood, leaning against the parlor's doorway for support, in a pair of green pajamas. Dark circles under his eyes, the young boy yawned, the barber grateful that he was oblivious to his scandalous thoughts. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, but I couldn't sleep at all," he paused, looking into Sweeney's eyes now with a serious stare. "Mum needs me 'ere with her, even if she isn't awake."

Mr. Todd didn't respond. He instead turned around and walked to Mrs. Lovett, lifting her a little to slip on her nightgown. His growing desire still pulsed in his chest, but he pushed it away. He would not have such thoughts about someone who was merely a business acquaintance, he thought firmly. Lucy was the only one who could give him love and comfort, and she was gone. He could survive without it. As he stated before: He wasn't Benjamin bloody Barker anymore. He was Sweeney Todd. He had his thoughts, rage, and blood. He would live.

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Sweeney let out an unsatisfied grunt as he sat in Mrs. Lovett's rocker, the sun steadily rising now. Even now, the want and desire to be held was overwhelming. It had been so long since anyone had shown him kindness. Fifteen years. Fifteen fucking years without any sign of compassion or affection. But he knew this wasn't true. Who had kissed his cheek every morning as he polished his marvelous blades? Who spoke only soft words of loyalty and kindness when he threatened their life? Who had- 

Mrs. Lovett stirred suddenly in her sleep. Toby, who had been dozing and holding onto her hand, noticed immediately.

Before he knew it, Sweeney was standing and walking over to her. Even though her eyes were shut, he knew she was awake. Mr. Todd hesitated before lifting her up into a sitting position. Mrs. Lovett began to tremble intensely and he shot Toby a look. Toby stood and scampered to his room, quickly returning with a warm comforter. He placed it over her and, finally, Mrs. Lovett opened her eyes. "Mrs. Lovett?" Their eyes met.

"Oh, _no_."

Sweeney frowned and awkwardly patted her back, but the gesture soon melted into a embrace, wanting to be closer to her warmth. There was a true sorrow in her sobs that refrained him from letting go. He of course didn't like holding a woman that wasn't Lucy in his arms. But Sweeney had that little pinch of sympathy still in some dusty corner of his heart.

Mrs. Lovett and Toby cried for quite some time, and Sweeney didn't leave. His mind wandered off into compelling thoughts of death and hatred to the filth in London, the filth that raped his Lucy and raped this haphazardly innocent baker. Oddly enough, he was interrupted by a sharp pain toward his chest.

Nellie's head throbbed as she punched Mr. Todd furiously. Her anger and despair had rocketed in the past minutes, and she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to let it out, and what do you know, Mr. Todd was right in front of her. She blindly swung at him, trying to scream but failing as she had lost her voice crying out the night before. Instead, her curses came out as raspy whispers. Despite the pain running through her arms and wrist as she swung, and the swollen throb in her throat as she screamed, Mrs. Lovett didn't stop her raging outburst until two strong hands grasped her by the wrists.

Mr. Todd was taken aback by her sudden rage and simply watched her for a moment or two. Such emotion in her eyes. And by God, she was strong. He winced and knew that he had to stop her. Having a firm grip on her, Mrs. Lovett looked up at him, shaking with anger.

"Judge. Turpin." Mrs. Lovett mouthed almost inaudibly, and Sweeney's eyes flashed intensely. He abruptly let go of her, grabbed his coat, and stormed out of the pie shoppe.

Mrs. Lovett was suddenly aware of how much her body ached. It was probably not the best idea to use her already strained muscles in such a violent manner. Her face wet and itchy, she stared at where Mr. Todd had been. An excruciating pain shot through her wrist and she frowned.

"Mum?" she heard a small voice sniff. It took her a moment to realize that Toby was kneeling close to her, clinging to her dresses.

Mrs. Lovett looked into his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. "Ello dearie," she answered weakly, only to be reminded once more that her voice was gone.

Toby scooted up onto the couch and sat close to her. He wanted ever so badly to hold onto her and never let go, but he knew it would probably hurt her. His lip quivered and Mrs. Lovett ran a weak hand through his hair. "Don't speak, mum. It's okay, I understand." He paused. "I-I'm so sorry I couldn't 'elp you earlier, mum. I woulda straight out killed whoever was hurtin' you so bad, honest! I tried to find you as fast as I could!"

He saw her shake her head weakly, a sad and forgiving look in her eyes. "Toby," she croaked. Toby began to stop her but Mrs. Lovett beat him to the punch. "I'm okay now, love. Everything will be okay."

Toby sniffed again and snuggled himself gingerly underneath the warm comforter. Finding his way underneath her arm, he felt her stroke his hair tenderly. Easing down a bit, the boy hiccuped a cry. "I'm righ 'ere, mum. Nothings gonna hurt you," he whispered softly into the blanket. With that, he finally fell asleep.

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**A/N: Woo. Please review, my loves, and tell me what you think so far :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Oh goodness, thank you for the reviews and the favoriting. I love you all for it! And, just for you, I'm going to try and attempt to write another chapter tonight. :) P****S: I have tweaked the ending of this chapter, for my own sake, because I was displeased with how I left it. Not major changes, don't worry :)

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Chapter Three

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Sweeney Todd strode down the dirty streets of London, his ghostly pale skin clashing harshly with the dark circles under his eyes. His feet splashed robotically in the murky puddles, soaking his shoes and the bottoms of his trousers. Not that he cared. People saw him as something from the dead, they did, always walking about in dark clothing with a permanent grimace on his departed face. He would sometimes stop people in mid-sentence as they'd curiously turn to look at the ghost that past them.

Or, like the majority of London did, he was ignored. His steps and movements were quick and sly, so subtle that he was merely a wave of cold air as he stormed past. And he was almost proud of it. He fondly compared himself to a dark shadow- lifeless and lingering. Sweeney was quite the metaphorical thinker, he'd admit. And he would smoothly nod his head to those who would dare think of him as deceased. But not today, no. Today, as Sweeney growled and turned a sharp corner, he couldn't feel more alive.

Wild images flashed in his mind, making him eagerly indignant. Images and scenes sprinkled lovingly with silver and blood and screams of mercy. Images that, most definitely, all included one hideous man: Judge Turpin.

Words of loathing and fury escaped his pale lips, his body tensing with the strongest rage. However, it wasn't easy navigating himself through these winding streets when his vision is nothing but red. Realizing he had made yet another wrong turn, Sweeney let out a frustrated yell, clutching frantically at his dark wavy hair. He spun, bumping roughly into a few people as the depth of the London crowds increased. Some snapped at him, others turned in a startled manner, not noticing he was there before. Sweeney was blind to their stares and remarks as his hand left his hair and trailed downward to the holster on his belt. His fingers wrapped tenderly around one of his razors, easing him only slightly.

Then, heavenly so, his eyes darkened with a bold finality. He tightened his grip. There, only seven buildings away, was his beloved destination. He began to run with a fierce, unwavering gait, bearing his teeth in his angry countenance. Thank heavens his dear friend was still in it's holster; if the leather bindings weren't restraining him, Sweeney would absolutely be hacking away at whoever was in his way. Nothing could stop him now, he was so close to the gray building. He could see the cracks in the hastily bricked walls, he could see it- yes, now he was running up the stairs- two at a time, grabbing greedily at the doorknob. He was there, the scenes in his macabre imagination growing clearer with every instant-

His eagerness came to an abrupt halt and Sweeney nearly fell over with emotional outrage. The door was locked. The bloody door was locked. He felt his pale face grow hot with unrestrained anger and he wouldn't be surprised if tears were pricking at his eyes. Mrs. Lovett wasn't here to calm him down, not this time. He trembled, fumbling for his razor as he sheepishly slammed it into the keyhole, turning it frantically. He was seething. "_Wretched bugger_."

"Is there a particular reason to why you are so impatiently trying to break into this fine dwelling, Mr. Todd?" The greasy voice echoed mockingly in his head, and Sweeney stopped fumbling his razor. He slowly turned around, meeting the elite gaze of a Mr. Beadle Bamford, who was leaning ominously on his cane.

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Mrs. Lovett was also trembling as she sat in her parlor, stroking Toby's hair. Not out of rage, no. Out of sorrow. She felt so empty, so helpless, and she wasn't very fond of it. She hadn't felt so used and betrayed since the day her parents were killed. She sniffed, shaking her head suddenly. Nellie shouldn't ever compare their death to what she was feeling now. She was much lower than them, their existence couldn't ever equal with her emotional distress. Nor did she want to think about her parents, how they were rotting in the ground right now, breathless and unfeeling...

Hiccuping a sob, Mrs. Lovett gently removed Toby from his snuggled position and stood on shaky legs. Always having been cautious, she stood a moment for the dizziness to ease away. She then moved Toby so he was laying full on the couch, her arms aching as she lifted the small boy. Nellie couldn't see him uncomfortable, though, after all he did for her. Lightly covering him with the duvet, she sighed, leaning down and kissing both of his cheeks. _My little knight in shining armor._

Turning now, she blinked away her dreary tears and began to walk slowly to the hallway. Like a gust of wind, a wave of dizziness crashed into her and she stumbled, grabbing onto curtains to break her fall. She let out a harsh laugh, a bit more alert now. _Thank heavens I'm not sailing,_ she thought,_ I'd surely fall overboard._

Nellie took her time now as she edged her way to her petty washroom, never having wanted to bathe so much in her life. Regaining some of her balance, Nellie opened the door, only to be stopped short by the image of herself looking back at her.

Her mirror was something she had cherished, oddly enough, as her beloved Benjamin Barker had bought it for her those many years ago. She could still remember the twinkle in his eye and his bright smile as he handed it to her one amazing evening.

_"Well don't just stand there, open it." His voice was like chocolate, smooth and sweet._

_Nellie stood still in her newly furnished but appropriately quaint parlor. In her hands was a nicely wrapped, and rather large gift, with a burgundy bow placed in the middle. She didn't move as she continued to stare down at this present._

_Benjamin Barker laughed, his voice like magic. "Here, let me help you," he offered, reaching over to the side of the gift. His fingers brushed against hers as he gently ripped the side of the wrapping paper, and she marveled at the warmth of his hands. Never was Albert's hands so welcoming, so soft. Especially as they were striking harshly against her face in the evenings._

_Fortunately snapping out of it, Mrs. Lovett fumbled for a response. "What is, well thank you, I guess, here I can do it..." she murmured shyly, her thoughts jumbled. She heard him laugh again and her heart soared. It was amazing what a simple chuckle could do to her. She lifted her hand and gingerly ripped away the shiny wrapping paper, and she found herself gazing into her_ _own pair of wide brown eyes. A gleeful smile pulled at her lips, and she shifted her glance to the other set of eyes found in the mirror's reflection. "Mr. Barker," I wish so dearly to call you Ben, my love, "...you really didn't have to do this."_

_Benjamin grinned, standing straighter to make a point. "Of course I did. How could I not get a gift for my wonderful landlady, especially when you're nearly finished decorating your parlor?" The sincerity of his warm brown eyes made Nellie giggle. "And how could you not own a mirror, Mrs. Lovett? I might add that you're not too hard on the eyes, even though you denied it earlier."_

_Mrs. Lovett's face tinted pink at his blunt complement, and she hoped to God he couldn't see. Her Ben had always been so flattering, and even if his intentions weren't romantic...imagining they were wouldn't hurt anything, right? "Thank you, so much-"_

_Like an angel swooping down from the heavens, Lucy padded down the stairway. Gracefully finding her way to them, she called in her singsong voice: "Bennnnnny! My darling, I'm ready for our night out on the town!" She laughed lightly, her voice too sweet._

_Benjamin immediately left Mrs. Lovett and was at Lucy Barker's side with a dreamy grin, wrapping his warm around her waist. "I'm here, my love," he responded in a low, affectionate voice, placing a soft kiss on Lucy's forehead._

_Nellie frowned slightly, glancing at the two of them with the utmost jealousy. Not soon afterward, Benjamin completely forgot his conversation with Mrs. Lovett, and the couple headed merrily out the door to their fine carriage waiting for them. Sighing heavily, Nellie looked back down into the mirror, hearing the bells of her shoppe door jingle as the door shut behind them._

_"No really, thank you," she mumbled halfheartedly, before sulking back to her bedroom so she could bury her thoughts in her pillow. _

The slightly older, slightly wiser, and slightly more insane baker now stood, gripping the sides of her bathroom sink. Those faraway memories of how kind and loving Mr. Todd had been wasn't helping matters. Especially with this shocking sight in front of her. Nellie gazed unacceptably into her reflection.

One thing that stood out the most to Mrs. Lovett were the circles under her eyes. How they darkened in such little time, and oh how she hated them. They had only came about after Mr. Barker was taken away, and even with his arrival they hadn't stopped gracing her delicate face.

They were only a small addition to her now beaten appearance, however. Her hair was out of it's usual clips and pins and they fell to her shoulders. She honestly never liked wearing her hair up, but she believed she looked improper if her thick hair wasn't up in the crazy mess that it usually was. Nellie never did catch onto this contradiction. Another thing that made her cringe was the bandage on her cheek. Hesitantly, she raised her hand to peel back the material, finding that the cut had already formed a thin scar. _Well this is going to look down right splendid._

A few light scratches were placed haphazardly across around her chest, and Nellie was glad to find that they were already fading. She wasn't about to go and buy some higher cut dresses, for one. Like her mother always told her: If you've got it, flaunt it. And she had it, alright.

Disturbed by the bruises on her arms, Mrs. Lovett turned away from the mirror and stepped to her bathtub. Turning the silver handle on the far end, a twinge of pain shot through her arm once more. She cursed under her breath, trying to ignore the pain. _This blasted wrist is hurting something fierce, _she thought impatiently, adding some nice smelling soapy solution to the hot water.

Even though Mrs. Lovett wasn't looking forward to seeing the rest of her injured body, she slipped off the nightgown she was wearing, just now noticing that she had been. She clutched it lightly in her hands, her eyes widening. Her face flushed and she gripped the towel hanger on the wall for more support, the obvious finally setting in. _Christ, he saw me naked!_

* * *

There was an eerie twinkle in this Bamford fellow's eye that made Mr. Todd twitch uncomfortably. No wonder Mrs. Lovett always seemed revolted every time he passed. Having already forgotten what the man had said, Sweeney simply stood there, staring at him.

Bamford raised an eyebrow at him, his looking becoming more menacing by the moment. "Mr. Todd, sir. Step aside from the door." Sweeney, still shaking in rage, swallowed and slowly stepped away from the doorway. Bamford tilted his chin up, not moving from his spot in the middle of the stairs, beady eyes shining. He was pleased that he had the upper hand, for once. "Now, answer me, my good sir, as to why you're breaking into these lodgings?"

The idea that popped into Sweeney's head was quick and ridiculous. He gave the Beadle a friendly smile. "Mr. Bamford, sir, I assure you that I wasn't breaking inside. Judge Turpin noticed my handiness as I was repairing Mrs. Lovett's window a few evenings ago, and he asked me if I could be so kind as to fix his doorknob." His husky voice had settled and smoothed into confidence, though Mr. Todd's shoulders were still shaking from his steadily increasing frustration.

Bamford still wasn't convinced as he leaned off of his cane, taking a few steps up the porch. Gripping the beloved cane from the middle now, he pointed it at Sweeney. "Why would Judge Turpin ask you for help if you're the accomplice of that sailor boy?" he snapped quickly, his wrinkled face contorting into a smirk.

This rat wasn't as stupid as he looked, Sweeney concluded. Refraining from rolling his eyes, Sweeney simply sweetened his innocent tone. "And why would the sailor boy matter if I'm not associated with him?" Bamford narrowed his eyes, confused. "It was all a big misunderstanding, you see. Signor Pirelli had earlier been in my shop before Judge Turpin arrived. The sailor boy was looking for _him_. I despise the both of them, honestly, working against such a honorable man like Judge Turpin." He felt the bile rising in his throat at these words, but this had finally been enough for the interrogating man.

Beadle Bamford smiled slyly and tilted his hat to Sweeney. "Ah, yes, I do recall my lord telling me of these misunderstandings," he lied flawlessly, obviously wanting to look all-knowing.

Sweeney bit back a smirk as his eyes flashed. "If you'd be so kind as you let me inside, Mr. Bamford, I need to unhinge the bolt from the other side of the doorknob." He then shoved his razor into his pocket, knowing that it would of looked odd to fix a doorknob with a blade. "I assume that you are his right-hand-man, are you not? At least these are the whispers I hear from many adoring young women as I pass."

Bamford's eyes lit up, and he nodded. "Tis why I have a key, my good friend." He walked the rest of they way up the stairs, feeling quite dandy, and slipped a gold key into the doorknob. He slowly opened the door and stepped inside, holding it open for Mr. Todd.

Sweeney stepped inside, and with a dark laugh, he slammed it behind him. His glance shifted to the Beadle and Sweeney lunged at him, shoving him against the wall. Bamford let out a grunt, but it was too late. Sweeney had lifted Bamford's chin, and glinting silver was pressed to his flesh. "Don't mind me, Mr. Bamford, repairing this doorknob won't take long at all." With that said, Sweeney dug his stunning blade into Bamford's neck with great force, and his victim let out a nasty gurgling yell. The most rewarding shade of red poured out from his neck, staining his finely pressed collar. Most of Bamford's life had left his eyes and Sweeney gave one final thrust into the flesh, finishing the straight line.

Covered with blood, the Beadle twitched one last time and fell limp to the floor. Sweeney grinned and wiped the blood from his eyes, staring down at the pathetic body. Mr. Todd was glad to find that he was breathing much more at ease, the murder calming his nerves. He lifted the spewing body and conveniently threw him in the nearby closet, closing the door gently. His right arm pulsated with bliss and his hunger for Turpin's death escalated once more. Sweeney didn't want to _wait_ any longer. He was done with _waiting. _Even if it were to be the last thing he did, Judge Turpin would die under his hand. His time had come. Todd's gaze flicked to the stairs and he smirked.

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**A/N: Well, I got that out of my system. I hope you enjoyed this cliffhanger ;) Now, I'm off to bed. I will surely write more in the morning! Please review!  
****-passes out-**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thank you all for so many reviews, my _gooodness_. I feel so loved. I'm having way too much fun with this. I just wanted you all to know that I, too, am watching how this is turning out right along side you. I hope you enjoy my jumbled bursts of SweeneyTodd!creativity. :) Please review!

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Chapter Four

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Nellie Lovett let out a long sigh as she tilted her head back further, immersed in hot water from the neck up. Most of her earlier tension had melted away as she relaxed in her small tub, surrounded with bubbles. Her eyes were closed as she breathed in the light scent of honey. Although her face was peaceful, her thoughts were scattered and irritating. That was the second thing on her list, Nellie decided. First was to settle her physical conflicts before delving into her emotional tornado. Sadly, her thoughts weren't pointed at last evenings events. Her concern was directed straight at, who guessed it, Mr. Todd.

How thoughtful he had been to dress her wounds and make her feel comfortable. Nellie could hardly get over it. She wouldn't of been shocked at all if she had awaken in that same grubby alleyway right now, to have to walk dreadfully back to her shoppe and attend to her pains alone. Mr. Todd's actions were still processing in her mind. Toby hadn't described much into how she had gotten back to her small parlor, but she was sure that Sweeney had helped. This concept alone made a content smile play on her lips, but it was jerked away as she shifted her body, her hip and wrist exploding in pain once more. Nellie frowned, opening her eyes slightly to glare stubbornly at them, as if she could scare the pain away. Unfortunately, nothing happened.

Soon time passed and the water cooled. More then half of the comforting bubbles had disappeared and her back was starting to ache from laying in her reclining position for so long. Pouting a little, Nellie emerged from the water, attempting to block her thoughts of the Judge and rape from her mind. Instead she continued to ponder about if Mr. Todd's hands were as gentle on her body as seemed fifteen years ago. She carefully toweled off, the draining of the tub water low and echoing, as if telling her that Mr. Todd would rather embrace the Beadle than her. Little did she know what was taking place between those two at this instant.

In the hallway, someone rapped quietly, politely, against the dark wooden door. "Mum? You in there?" questioned a young male voice, shy with concern.

Wrapped now in a soft navy blue robe, Nellie glanced at the door. How she loved this Toby boy. She quietly opened the door and gave him a small smile. He stood dressed in his usual clothing now: brown slacks, a white shirt, and soft maroon vest. It seemed that he had tried to comb his hair back to look a bit more proper but it still stuck out in odd places. Mrs. Lovett made a face and ruffled his hair again. "That's better," she murmured, glad to see that her voice wasn't as raspy, but still a bit faded.

Toby smiled up at her, a nice hopeful smile, and she saw his shoulders drop a bit in relief. "You always make things better, mum," he stated warmly, and Nellie felt a twinge in her heart for him as he again called her 'mum'.

They stood there in the doorway for a few quiet moments, gazing calmly at each other. She much closer to him over these past hours, knowing that he had proved himself loyal to her. Nellie knew, now, that he was truly devoted to the woman who had made him feel as if he had family.

Breaking the silence, Mrs. Lovett jerked her chin toward the kitchen. "Why don't you fetch yourself somethin' to eat, hmm?"

Toby nodded and retreated halfway down the hallway before stopping, turning on his heel, and scrambling over to Mrs. Lovett, throwing his arms around her waist. "I love you, mum," he said quietly, his voice muffled in her robe.

Mrs. Lovett gave him a sad smile and ignored the soreness of her hip, hugging him tenderly for a moment. "And I you, dearie. Now go on, stuff yourself." With that, the boy gave her a happy smile and left. Mrs. Lovett sniffed. _Such an innocent boy having to deal with the horrors of the world. He doesn't deserve it._

She walked into her room, towel and nightgown in hand, feeling a bit more content. But, happiness doesn't stay long in Nellie Lovett's swirl of a life. At her bedroom window was a hunched and rather filthy woman. Dropping the contents from her hands onto the floor, Nellie gasped. A rather filthy Lucy Barker.

* * *

Sweeney's face grew serious now as he crept silently up the winding staircase. The grip on his razor was so firm, so tight, and he lifted it to his face, whispering soothing words. His favorite blade, his closest friend, his entity, was begging for more and it grew hot in his palm. He found himself now at the top of the stairs and he looked up from his razor, wild dark eyes scanning the long hallway for any sign of movement. Then, there off to the right, a thick shadow of a man paced back and forth. Sweeney took a daring step further, stopping momentarily beside some fine drapery to clean off his blade. Now, moving forward again, crazed demon approached what seemed like a small study and stood idly in the doorway.

Judge Turpin, it seemed, had turned his back to Sweeney the moment he was in his doorway. The aging man walked briskly to the window and unhinged the lock, shoving it upward to let in a burst of crisp air. The wave of cold didn't settle Turpin's nerves, no, nothing could ease his anxiety away. He was a wanted man, and quite aware of it. Mrs. Lovett would surely find some way to do him in, even if he was in high standards with the constabulary. She would come for him in the night, carrying some sort of weapon, a twisted grin on her face.

It felt horrible, being afraid, Turpin decided. Not once in the longest time had any trace of fear passed through his daring green eyes, not once. He had always been ahead of everyone, above everyone. But there had always been something about that Widow Lovett that made him uneasy. When she passed him ever so often he could smell her strong perfume and he felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise if they ever exchanged glances. A sick feeling he had, like she was always watching, innocently from her shabby little bakehouse. A strangled grunt escaped him as he ran his hands through his graying brown hair, shaking.

If he hadn't drank the damn whiskey he wouldn't ever have approached Mrs. Lovett those hours ago. Any other woman, yes, seeing as he hadn't felt as puissant and in control after his troubles with the sailor boy and Johanna, and of course over powering a helpless woman would make him feel much better. It always did. He was above them, they were scum. Beautiful, virtuous scum, at that, but still much lower than himself. He was a _Judge_. He was who everyone would turn to when there was mischief and scandal, so no one would expect the most _exemplary Judge Turpin_ to be involved with such things. With his strong stare and low voice, he easily intimidated all of London. And perhaps more than London when he vacationed in Scotland during the Christmas season. But never did he believe that he intimidated Mrs. Nellie Lovett, at least not enough.

The Judge began to pace again, not aware of the dark figure that lingered in his doorway, watching him so closely. Watching him with wild eyes, taking his distress in with a thin smile. Nor had he heard the Beadle's small scream down bellow. None of it. He was not aware as that dark figure tightened his grip on his blade and lowered his head to stare menacingly. Turpin, desperately, feeling a bit vulnerable, tore away his clever green jacket and threw it to the side of his study. His head began to pound horrifically again and he seethed in a painful breath, his hand shooting to the large wound on his forehead. He felt so foolish, thinking back on his attacker now, not being able to restrain himself from quite the young boy. But being caught up in such drunken bliss, he was caught off guard.

Such thoughts raced through his mind, the occasional worry of how Johanna was keeping in Mr. Fogg's sweaty asylum would never be pushed aside, along with an itching feeling that he had heard someone open the front door. No, that never happened, couldn't happen. He was safe and alone in his luxurious study, not to be harmed. He walked to the window again, sticking his head out and taking in a frantic breath of fresh air. There now, Judge Turpin. Everything was going to be okay.

"_Complete filth_."

It was the sound that brought the Judge from his hysterics, this low husky voice. He jumped in his place, banging his head on the top of the window.

"Horrible, ghastly, pathetic, meaningless _filth_." Sweeney was writhing in the moment, taking in staggering breaths and feeling light headed. His pace quickened to his most cherished victim, wanting to see the red, hear the screams. His wild, crazed glare was narrowed down on this animal, this revolting waste of life. Everything else had darkened into black, nothing was stopping him now.

Turpin attempted to turn around but was unable to as the window was shoved downward on the back of his neck. He heard the crack of bones and he let out a terrible wail, sending up frightened looks from the crowds down below. Again and again the bottom of the window was forced downward, sending horrible aching punches into his flesh.

Sweeney wouldn't of minded that there were crowds forming outside, seeing the open attacking of Judge Turpin through the window two stories above them. Some gasped, some shouted, some marveled as the head of this filthy man stuck out of the building, his face contorting into the most pained anguish. No, Sweeney wouldn't of minded at all, if he was even aware of it. The killer screamed words of loathing and profanity, watching greedily as the back of Turpin's neck split open.

Now for the front.

Sweeney threw the window up, his blade screaming to pierce flesh. With a mangled grunt, he turned over Turpin's body so he was faced to him, his head still out of the window. He would see his attacker, Turpin would know who was going to send him straight to hell to burn for eternity.

The raging barber, not hesitating now, thrust the top of his blade down straight into the center of his throat with a powerful yell. At last the blood, all of the marvelous blood.

"YOU WILL NO LONGER HAUNT ME," Sweeney screamed with finality, his voice much higher than usual. "YOU WILL NO LONGER PLAGUE ME." Another thrust now, and he could the blade push through the back of his neck, hitting the wooden pane.

Blood dripped slowly down from the window and soaked into the neatly trimmed shrubs and bushes on the front porch of his dwelling. Screams of terror echoed up from the busy streets and people shoved and pushed to see the gory sight above, others ran from it, chilled to the bone.

The window pane and the brick surrounding the window were now drenched in crimson as the glinting silver thrust robotically into flesh, tearing, stabbing. Killing. Sweeney didn't take notice of the teams of law enforcements were being called in, or that he had brought a well-planned out marriage proposal to a dead halt, a drop of blood falling into the soon-to-be groom's head. Nor did he see a young woman with yellow hair stop in senseless shock beside a strapping young man, to gaze up at the prison she used to reside in.

A few moments later, it was done. The killer was done. Sweeney let out a long, staggering breath, his shoulders hunched a bit as he pushed some of his bloody hair away. Everything was silent. The crowds below were still, wide-eyed, struck by the event. Todd glanced now to his searing blade and he licked his lips, tasting the metallic crimson. His revenge had finally been taken.

* * *

**A/N: Well, there you go. I'm still puzzled on what I'm going to do with this, but you know me...bright ideas just _pop_ into me head, and I keep thinking...**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: So sorry for the long lapse of updating here. To be honest, I'm quite the lazy person. -grin-**

**One thing I'd like to say to those who haven't already noticed: I firmly dislike time-skips. Truly and passionately. I believe so much can happen even in the smallest amounts of time, and I hate when people skip to hours, weeks, months later without any other description. Not saying that I haven't used them before, but I will rarely pass by moments that can be described and developed. I say this now only because I realized that not even a full day has passed within these five chapters. Hahaa.**

**Hope the double flashbacks don't throw anyone off!**

**Enjoy, my lovelies.**

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**Chapter Five**

* * *

How appropriate, Nellie Lovett mused peevishly, standing rigidly in the center of her bedroom. She stared out the window with wide eyes, a horrible anxiousness arising from within her. Why now, why did she have to come now? Nellie quickly shifted her gaze to her feet, not really knowing how to react. So many thoughts of this crazed beggar had crawled into her mind the night before when Judge Turpin hovered over her. How guilty Nellie had felt, wanting to bat away Turpin's fingers that had been tangled in her curls. How ashamed she became, realizing that before she had felt hardly any sympathy toward Lucy.

Nellie had underestimated the horror and pain Lucy had gone through fifteen years ago, and now understood some of the motivation behind her attempt of suicide. Oh, how awful it was to have a perverse, sweaty man groping and exploring your body with greedy fingers. How revolting to feel rough, wet lips be pressed to yours without any consent. How sickening to feel lustful eyes take in your body like you were nothing more than today's plaything.

Sick, shaken thoughts now entering her head again, Nellie felt herself sway on the spot. Right on cue, a pair of dirty fists began to pound on her bedroom window and her head shot upward.

Lucy Barker was so broken now, mumbling, trembling, sucking her teeth in. Her misty hazel eyes jumped around and she seemed to be taking in her surroundings for the first time. She paused and stopped pounding on the glass, muttering something and shuddering. After a few moments of recollecting herself in a hasty manner, Lucy let out a high chuckle and shot her gaze up through the window again. She glared daggers at the frail baker inside and began to beat at the window again, desperately, trying to get Nellie's attention.

Mrs. Lovett, snapping out of her misfortune, padded over to the window, feeling woozy. She crinkled her nose as Lucy's form was even more clear of an image, and if it wasn't for the muddy smears and the loud banging on the glass, Nellie probably wouldn't of opened the window. A cold gust of air swirling into her room, Mrs. Lovett let out a startled yelp to feel the hunched beggar clutching her bathrobe.

"You, Nellie," Lucy shrieked, her grubby fists tightly grasping the thin material of the robe, pulling Nellie closer to her. "You're a liar, a naughty liar! You told my Benjamin lies!" She shook Nellie a bit and the baker began to tremble in her maniacal clasp. "Lies, lies, lies, lies, lies!"

Her heart pounding loudly in her ears and chest, Mrs. Lovett struggled to push herself away from Lucy's grasp. Once she was finally released, Nellie gave her a stubborn, frightened stare, though a moment later the fear had vanished. Regaining her composure, an irritated, revolted gaze now lingered on Lucy's filthy figure.

Her once beautiful, flowing yellow hair was matted and tangled and greasy, covering half of her face. Her face, too, was filthy and smeared with dirt and other things. She wore a tattered beige dress that was scattered with careless rips and tears. Over it were many assorted smocks and scarfs, all coming apart and stained. On her feet were a pair of thin, scuffed boots with holes near the toes and heels.

"Go away, beggar," Nellie snapped firmly with fake ignorance, "I don't have time for this." She lifted her chin and tried to stop shaking. How did this nightmare of a woman comprehend that she lied to Mr. Todd? No--wait, she never lied, that wasn't true. She just left out some frivolous, unimportant information, that wasn't lying, not at all.

The former virtuous Mrs. Barker erupted in hysterical laughter, shaking her head wildly and pointing an accusing finger. "You're _funny_, acting as if you don't know what you did to my husband!" Her voice shook with both amusement and anger.

Nellie shivered but didn't falter, folding her arms over her chest. Raising an eyebrow, she remained silent.

Lucy tilted her head, her eyes flashing with an eerie innocence. "Oh, but you've always had your silly little eyes on him, haven't you?" Placing her dirtied fingers on the window pane, she leaned a bit into the bedroom. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I remember, you know, you may not think I can but _oh_, I remember. How you would brighten the moment he walked in the room, or how you blushed whenever he would so much as pass by you." Lucy took in a slow, shaking breath. "But the truth is, Mrs. Lovett. He never saw you as anything other than his useless landlady. You were nothing more."

Nellie shook her head now, not wanting to listen to this madwoman's whispers. She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling suddenly vulnerable and helpless. "I wasn't just a useless landlady," she retorted in a small voice.

A wicked smile slowly crept onto Lucy's lips. "Ah, but you were," she responded quickly, cackling, becoming more confident in Mrs. Lovett's weak despair. "Useless, useless, useless you are! Why would he pay attention to you when I was there, filling his every desire and need. He was holding _me_, loving _me_."

Mrs. Lovett whimpered, shaking her head again. She opened her eyes, looking back at this suddenly bold Lucy Barker. She despised her sudden control over her emotions. "I-I am not useless, he appreciated me!" she shot back, but she swayed again, old memories reminding her of how her life used to be those years ago.

* * *

_Seventeen Years Earlier_

"No, not again, not again..." Nellie whispered, shooting up from the arm chair she had found herself dozing in before. She dashed around the corner and quickly placed her hands into the soapy dishwater that filled the kitchen sink. She groped around for a rag and grasped it before feverishly scrubbing at whatever dish seemed the least bit dirty.

The stomping grew louder and the curses grew harsher as Albert descended the stairs in a hurried, angry rush. "Woman! How many times do I have to tell you--!" His voice was booming into their small quarters and Nellie shuddered, biting her lip and scrubbing harder. She need to be working, she needed to be doing something.

Albert entered the kitchen, his face and ears a bright shade of red. His bulky frame heaved from traveling so quickly down the stairs and he clenched the side of the counter with one pudgy hand. In the other fist he tightly grasped a thin piece of cloth. Sweaty and frustrated, he caught his breath and narrowed his eyes. "You're lucky I found this now, Nellie," he growled, lifting his hand to shake the material in her face.

Turning slowly to look at him, Nellie's eyes flashed with something resembling regret. Now gazing upon the expensive tie dangling in front of her face, she fought back a whimper and instead gasped. "Love, I'm so sorry," she insisted sincerely, desperately, now drying her hands. Her heart sunk to realize the cloth had shrunk down to half its size, understanding why he was so upset. It was his favorite tie. The most _important_ tie. It was a lush silk, a rich maroon. And he had spent most of last week's earnings on it.

Wringing her hands together, she looked up, feeling very small. "I just haven't been sleeping a lot lately and..." she trailed off suddenly, immediately regretting her words.

Albert hated when she complained. He saw it as selfish whining and nothing more, not being able to understand that such a transparent woman would actually need attention. He shook the tie again, now with more force. "You did this on purpose!" he accused in outrage, stepping closer to her.

Nellie really didn't mean to ruin the bloody thing. She thought back now on how she could of ruined his tie, trying to remember what could of caused her to make such a foolish mistake. Then, it dawned on her.

She had been doing his laundry late yesterday evening basement's washroom, as she usually did on Thursdays, but something was distracting her. A lovely, deep, entrancing distraction. Directly above her, bathing in the bathroom, was a singing Benjamin Barker. The baritone softness of his voice echoed pleasantly in her ears and her eyes fluttered. She noticed that he sung from deep within his person and it came forth as a growl. It was, Nellie decided, positively the sexiest thing that ever graced the air. The song he sung was old but one of her dear favorites. Closing her eyes fully now, she had absently scrubbed at one of Albert's working shirts that was stained harshly with blood. Being married to a butcher wasn't all that great. Fortunately, the low voice of her Benjamin traveled to her ears once more.

"The fragrant wreaths my eyes invite  
Thy beauties smile around,  
In roses red, in roses white,  
Thy blooming sweets are found."

A small smile pulled at her lips as his voice hypnotized her into a dream-like bliss. Quietly, softly, Nellie sang along with him.

"And o' there's charms my mem' can cheer  
Alike all seem ta' me.  
For ah! my love, my only dear  
I leave my heart wi' thee."

She was gone now, letting go of the bundle of clothes in her hands, and they landed with a watery thunk! into the basin's hot water. Her eyes still closed, she bowed to an invisible Benjamin and grasped the air elegantly, pretending to waltz with him around the washroom. She hummed along with the actual Benjamin bathing upstairs, though in her mind he was dancing closely, singing only to her.

"At my return ah! may I find,  
Thy strength defy auld time.  
I'll bring thee self that rules mankind,  
E'er yet I've lost my prime.

Thy vows of truth alone can cheer,  
Alone give bliss to me;  
For ah! my love, my only dear,  
I leave my heart wi' thee."

She supposed it was then, once the music stopped and her fantasy shattered, that she hadn't realized the expensive tie floating in the hot water.

Now, looking back hesitantly into the impatient eyes of Albert Lovett, Nellie swallowed. A light blush had formed on her cheeks at her foolishness earlier, and she reached out weakly to her husband. "Please forgive me, dear," she murmured, but a hand was slapped hotly against her cheek and she fell to the ground.

"Do not speak to me with such little respect!" Albert demanded in a loud husky bellow, looking down at her with disgust.

The normally stubborn, strong Nellie Lovett found herself tremble under his frightening gaze. "I'm sorry, love- _sir_, please, sir, I'm sorry," she blurted shakily with desperation, her bowing her head so she wouldn't make eye contact with the large man.

Albert let out a deep grunt and his fist rose quickly. Mrs. Lovett saw him reach back in the reflection of a small pool of water on the floor that had spilled from the sink. Nellie let out a small noise, bracing herself.

The fist shot back in her direction, only a foot away, ready to clash brutally with her other cheek, when a strong hand stopped it.

"Stop this!" The familiar voice was dangerously low and Albert, irritated, turned to see a disheveled Benjamin Barker behind him. He was firmly grasping his arm that was aimed for Nellie, a new, angry look in his eye.

Albert hastily pulled away from Benjamin's grasp and threw him a sharp look of repugnance. The butcher didn't speak, nor did the barber, and they continued to stare at each other with distaste. He lowered his arm slowly, and after an intense moment, he averted his gaze down to his slender wife on the ground. Shaking his head, Albert bent a little and spit largely in her direction before loudly retreating back up the stairs.

Nellie, mortified to have Benjamin seeing herself in such a state, hastily rose to her feet turned from him. She grabbed a dish cloth and gingerly swiped the saliva from her bodice, cringing a little.

"Are you alright?" His voice was so warm, so sincere, and she heard him take a step closer to her.

How she wanted to break down right now, rush into his arms, and confess her passionate love for him. He would embrace her and confess himself, telling her that she was beautiful, even more virtuous than Lucy, and that he adored Nellie with equal passion. They would then leave his twit of a wife and the large butcher, perhaps move to the seaside, and raise their own children. It would be just Benjamin and herself, and maybe a little boy, and they would watch the sun set on their wrap-around porch.

But no, it wouldn't ever happen.

"I'm fine, don't you worry," Nellie insisted, "Albert just has a bit of a temper, poor thing, always being pushed around in his workplace to work twice hard, he deserves more than what he gets." She said this all very quickly, and she bent down to soak up the puddle of dishwater on the wooden floor.

Nellie felt his hand being placed lightly, carefully onto her shoulder, and she was surprised that she hadn't melted on the spot. He spoke then, seeming to choose his words carefully. "You shouldn't have to deal with his anger. You do so much for him every day, he should realize what a complete ass he is making of himself," his words cut sharply, and he softened his tone. "Excuse my language, it's just hard for me to stand by and watch him take advantage of you."

Nellie's heart did a back flip and she slowly stood, placing the rag by the sink. "Times is hard, Mr. Barker." She turned a little to meet his gaze, his hand still resting gently on her shoulder.

Benjamin opened his mouth to protest, but all very suddenly, her tender moment was pulled away.

A young woman with black tight curls bounded noisily down the opposite stairs, rushing to them. Out of breath, the thin woman placed a hand on her bosom and she held herself up on the side of the kitchen's counter. Nellie recognized her instantly as Lucy's close friend, Sophia Gardens.

Benjamin turned and gave the heaving lady a look of concern. "What is it? Is Lucy alright?" he asked quickly, already heading toward the stairs.

Sophia gave him a weary smile turning to follow him. "Her water-- it just broke, Mr. Barker. She's--going into--labor," she responded between gasps of breath.

Benjamin let out a laugh of excitement and ran up the stairs two at a time.

Within a few short minutes, the three of them were all on a fast carriage to the nearest midwife, and Nellie was again left alone. She stood with her hands at her sides, idly, and quietly looked out of the window, her cheek stinging.

* * *

Seventeen cold years later, the widow baker stood staring at her bedroom's wooden floor, overwhelmed with emotion. Nellie slowly looked up to see Lucy shaking with giddy amusement, giving her a toothy smile. "You realize your emptiness only now, Nellie?" she questioned, sounding much wiser than insane.

Angry and hurt, Mrs. Lovett let out a yell. Getting ready to throw an outraged tantrum, she inhaled, pointing a finger, to only have Lucy's head snap to the left in surprise.

"Benny," the beggar whispered, and to Mrs. Lovett's horror, she, too, saw a very bloody Sweeney Todd dash toward the pie shoppe from the back streets.

"No!" Nellie yelped, but Lucy was already running full-speed to her long lost husband, calling his name.

* * *

**A/N: Hehehe. Well, here's something to hold you for a little while. ****Please review! It will make me update so much faster, I promise. :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks once more for all of the inspiring reviews! Onto the chapter :)

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Chapter Six

* * *

"Silence."

It was the first word that escaped Sweeney Todd as he stared, exhausted, at Turpin's mangled body in the crimson study. Todd felt a powerful wave of relaxation wash over him and he let out a long, contented sigh. Tilting his head back, the bloody killer closed his eyes, savoring this new sensation. _Silence._

It had been almost a year, Sweeney mused, a year since Mrs. Lovett told him of Lucy and Johanna, of Turpin. It seemed that, ever since that hushed moment in her parlor when she spoke of rape and suicide, his being had been plagued with noise. When he stood in his shop, gazing upon the bustling London, Todd heard his razors whisper to him, persuading him, cooing him, pushing him. When the streets were empty and chilled, and Sweeney took these late hours to walk alone and get a bit of fresh air- his friends, his shining, glorious friends would still insist for that silky feeling of slicing into flesh. Like the dull humming of your mind when you're at a loss of words, his polished razors would pulsate, making him feel almost vulnerable under their power.

Or, more frequently, when Sweeney felt as if he would finally get a wink of sleep on the thin, lumpy mattress placed in his attic, he would hear screams from Lucy, moans and wails from his cherished, rotting wife.

"How could you?" she would yell, her voice ringing clearly as if she were there at his bed side, "You should of fought your way out of that prison, you would of been able to if you truly loved me!"

"I tried," he would mumble, shaken, grasping the sheets of his bed, "I tried countless times before I finally got out, darling, it wasn't easy! All I wanted was to come home to you and my daughter, nothing more, nothing more."

"Benjamin would have saved me. _He_ would have come home to me. _He_ would have been there to see Johanna grow."

Lucy's voice had rang even louder in his ears, the words hurting him greatly. "I _am_ Benjamin," he would plead, "Lucy, I love you--"

"Benjamin is dead. My Benjamin is dead, and you killed him!"

His eyes would shoot open, expecting his Lucy to be standing in front of him, her bright hazel eyes shining with tears. He was greeted with nothing, only the shadow of his barber's chair in the soft candle light. And Sweeney would find himself struggling to admit that he wished someone was there with him, to comfort him. Even Mrs. Lovett.

But now, as Sweeney chuckled freely before the Judge's dead body, he felt whole again. The weight on his shoulders was lifted and he felt a new energy swirl within him. He opened his eyes slowly and shifted his gaze to the window. Walking calmly to it, he was greeted by dozens of eyes staring up at him. The silence was broken.

"There he is! Look!"

"Up there, in the window now!"

"It's that barber fellow, good heavens!"

Just now taking notice of the sizable crowd pointing and shouting at him, Sweeney glanced down at Turpin's body once more before smiling slightly at the crowd. With that, he turned on his heel and left the room with a few brisk strides, whistling lowly. Still grasping the razor in his hand, Todd quickly descended the winding stairs and took a sharp turn around the corner, searching for the back of the house. There was an entrance, he remembered, to the back streets from behind most of the buildings on this street. Todd placed his friend gingerly into it's holster and continued looking.

Not a moment later did he hear someone swing the front door open, voices traveling their way into the spacious house. Cursing, Sweeney dodged into what seemed to be a kitchen, opened yet another door, and made his way into a lavish drawing room. If he wasn't running from officials, Sweeney would of, perhaps, taken a moment to gaze at the intricate fireplace that was trimmed with gold, or sneak a glance at the Judge's large collection of fine cigars. Mr. Todd was always thinking of the possibilities, even when being hunted for murder.

The voices grew louder and Sweeney's nostrils flared, his eyes darting to a large black door in the back of the drawing room. He ran to it and grabbed the doorknob. The door was locked but he gladly noticed how cold it was compared to all of the previous ones. This door led outside. He spun, scrambled to the room's entrance, and shut it. Not seeing a lock on this door, he grabbed a large chair and shoved it in front of the entrance so the constabulary wouldn't be able to get inside.

Todd, making sure his razor was secure inside his belt's bindings, walked to the black door again and quickly studied the design of the bolts and hinges. Having been locked away for so long, Sweeney was aware of how hinges and door knobs were constructed. It was all he could do, those years ago, to study what was around him. A light smirk played on his lips and he backed up a few steps.

There was a sudden bang at the room's entrance and Todd heard the voices grow louder, now being able to make out their shouting: "RUNNING ONLY MAKES YOU MORE GUILTY, TODD. BE A MAN." The voice was gruff and low and he would of normally shot a glare in his general direction, but Todd was too satisfied with his skill of escaping.

Only a brief moment later did Todd swiftly lift his leg and kick the black door square in the middle, knocking it loudly to the ground. After identifying which direction the door would open, he also recognized the design of the hinges were old and loose, making them easier to pull from the wall. Thanks to this bit of knowledge and physical strength, Sweeney bolted out of the door and into the alley ways the moment the officials burst into the room.

Sweeney Todd ran. He ran swiftly and with ease, feeling his legs regain an earlier flexibility. With a sunken, pale face and a lean frame, Todd didn't look healthy. But in truth, he was probably more physically fit than any other man in London. To survive in the prisons of Australia, one was required to be fit. He felt a foreign warmth fill his body as he ran, dodging carefully around corners and other things. The commands of the yelling men were soon drowned out by the pace of his breathing, the leap in his step, the flicker in his eye. He forgot how running made him feel so alive.

Wiping some dried blood from his eyes, Sweeney neared the pie shoppe, coming from behind. Looking over his shoulder one last time, he figured that he lost the police, but only shortly. They knew where he resided and the officials would be quick to check their first. His heart raced from the adrenaline pumping throughout his body, sweat forming on his back and forehead despite the cold weather.

"BENNY!"

Now, only a few shops from his tonsorial parlor, the shriek of a voice broke his steady thoughts. Glancing to his left, he saw a ragged figure rushing wildly toward him, her arms flailing about.

Sweeney gritted his teeth, looking more like the madman than ever: he was almost entirely soaked from the waist up with blood, along with some dried in his black, wavy, mess of a hair style. The sleeve of his shirt was ripped, having snagged on a fence post when running, and his eyes were more vindictive than jealous love.

He growled, feeling deliciously poignant, and charged at the ragged figure. He would take down these bloody law enforcers one by one if he had to, and the Good Lord knew that he could. Grasping his silver accomplice, Todd's right arm pulsated. Not with revenge, however. An unfamiliar, yet equally satisfying feeling that he couldn't place. Victory, perhaps?

The hunched figure stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes widening. A swirl of confusion and shock seemed to have hit her with a strong force and she blinked vigorously. "You! You're helping the devil woman!" she screeched in the highest of voices, jumping a little. She gasped loudly, stumbling backward. "Covered in blood, too! Dear me, dear me, the devil is approaching!" Quickly turning, she began to run in the opposite direction, flailing about as she had been moments earlier. "Somebody! Somebody over here!"

The beggar was grabbed roughly from the back of her dirty shawl and pulled backward. A glint of silver, a sharp intake of painful breath. Then it was over.

* * *

Mrs. Lovett did all she could not to fall over from shock as she stared at the scene from her bedroom window. With wide eyes Nellie stared, her jaw hanging open slightly, not really sure how to react. Her fear had escalated to an extreme when Lucy had dashed to her husband, and she fought over the idea of climbing out the window to rush after her. It was when she was attempting to lift her aching leg over the pane when she heard Lucy's screams abruptly stop and take a completely different direction.

Nellie's head had shot up only to see Sweeney swipe a razor cleanly across his wife's throat. She felt suddenly very heavy and the baker leaned on the pane for support now. Part of her wanted to jump with a glorified triumph, but Nellie also felt the largest knife of guilt stab through her heart. She now knew the troubles Lucy Barker had suffered, the pains she endured. All Lucy wanted, Nellie knew, was to remember and feel joyous again. And the beggar woman had, only to loose her grasp of reality the moment it was inches away from her.

How horrible, Nellie felt, not knowing what else to do but to put herself in Lucy's tattered shoes.

The pale landlady didn't have much time to ponder these emotions, sadly, as both Toby and Sweeney called for her in unison. Toby was approaching her from behind, having burst into her bedroom.

"Mum, Mr. Todd is a bad man!" It was the only thing Toby could let out, for he met the gaze of the bad man himself. Glaring harshly, Toby flung himself in front of Mrs. Lovett, holding out his arms as if to shield her, even though Sweeney was out the window. "STAY AWAY FROM US. I SWEAR I'LL KILL YOU IF YOU TAKE A STEP CLOSER," he shouted ferociously, intense for such a young boy.

Sweeney Todd, on the other hand, was giving Mrs. Lovett one of the only smiles she had ever seen grace his features. He seemed strangely calm and he neared the window, ignoring the threats of Toby. "Mrs. Lovett," he shouted over him in his husky growl of a voice, "We're leaving in two minutes. Meet me by Johanna's tree." With that, he was gone.

The rest was a blur to Mrs. Lovett. Taking Toby firmly by the shoulders, Nellie shushed him, hugged him, whispered to him.

"You said you'd do anything for me, Toby, dear?" she asked him quickly yet her voice was steadied with a keen gentleness.

Toby hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Yes, ma'am, anything, but-"

"Then forget any bad thoughts you have of Mr. T, can you do that? Just do as he says for now."

Toby shook his head, opening his mouth to protest. "But, Mum he kill-"

Mrs. Lovett quickly kneeled beside him, cupping his face in her hands. Her voice dropped to a low whisper. "Toby. Please. _Promise me_." Her brown eyes were shining with such concern, more worry than Toby had ever seen.

He let out a small, defeated breath. "Alrigh', mum. I promise."

Nellie gave him a tight smile and now gave him a stern look. "Now, go to the parlor, and fetch the bag underneath the organ." She stood, pushing him a little. "Quickly now, grab your coat, too, and meet me back 'ere. We don't 'ave much time." Toby then rushed promptly from the room, leaving Mrs. Lovett alone.

She quickly changed out of her robe, despite her open window, and dawned an older black dress, not caring to fetch a corset. Nellie then pulled a dark coat from her closet and pulled it on, her chest heaving at her quick moments. Her legs and arms ached as she moved about the room, snatching a few small items from her dresser and shoving them anxiously into her pockets. Not a moment later did Toby return, a large brown sack slung over his shoulder, wearing his brown jacket, a hat shoved crookedly onto his head.

Toby ran to her, grasping her hand. "They're 'ere at your door," he explained, pulling her to wards the open window. "I know we're runnin' from 'em, so we have to go now."

Nellie Lovett nodded and they both climbed out of the window. Running in the shadows of the back streets, Nellie held Toby's hand tightly, never having been so glad to have such a smart lad for a son.

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**A/N: I'm shaking, I'm so happy. This all shot out of my head about 40 minutes ago, I was so glad I finally thought of something. I have so many ideas now. :) I do hope you all review, telling me what you think! Oh, and also, maybe vote on my Sweeney poll that's on my profile? Hehe. Oh, my friend Stephanie says hi. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: So I'm sitting here, on my 16th birthday, not really doing anything. And what pops into my head? "OMG GO WRITE SOME FAN FICTION!!!" So here I am. I think it was time to write a new chapter, anyways. I've held off long enough. Please read and review, for a birthday gift to me :) PS: Sorry if I went over board with the explanation flashback, I simply adore the aspect of younger Nellie and Benjamin.

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Chapter Seven

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Nellie Lovett was thoroughly glad that she hadn't slipped into one of her corsets, for even without one, the baker was at a loss of breath. She never before had a reason to run or jog without stopping for large periods of time, and was now regretting her lack of fitness. Her chest heaved and her throat seared from inhaling cold air repetitively, tears forming in her eyes from the wind blowing into her face. She didn't want to even imagine what her hair must of looked like, not even having pins to hold it in place. Nellie squinted, making sure she wouldn't trip over anything, hardly realizing that she wasn't wearing anything on her feet. It had become very apparent, however, when a sharp, piercing pain shot through the center of her right heel. A small noise escaped her lips but she knew that she'd have to ignore it for now.

Young Toby, on the other hand, was doing just fine sprinting beside her along the shadowy buildings. Still grasping tightly onto Nellie's hand, he kept an easy pace, his keen blue eyes set in front of him. The lad was mighty bugger for his age, having developed a brawny strength from lifting, cranking, dashing, throwing, fetching. Nellie gave him an irritated side glance. He was making this whole getaway deal look effortless.

Never mind that, Nellie's thoughts nitpicked and she looked ahead of herself once more. _Johanna's tree._

Part of her wanted to cry out when she had realized what Mr. Todd ordered. She was astonished that he had recalled such memories, memories that didn't include his Lucy. Memories that Nellie often looked back to when she felt hopeless in her relationship with Mr. T. Maybe Nellie shouldn't be surprised, however. It _was_ Johanna's first word.

* * *

It warmer than usual on the second Sunday of May, finally warm enough for Nellie to wear the darling, pale yellow dress that hung in her closet. An eager smile spreading over her lips, she quickly donned it and raced in a merry fashion to the washroom's mirror to see how fitting she looked.

She slowly opened the washroom door with a childlike anxiousness, and squeaked in delight at her reflection staring back at her. The young baker was proud to admit that she looked lovely in this lacy yellow dress. It hugged her small frame warmly and fell lightly an inch above the ground. White lace was embroidered in stripped patterns in the center of the bodice, tiny bows lining the material below her bosom. The light hue of the dress made her skin appear less pale, and this made Nellie smile even wider. She padded up to the mirror and let down a couple of pins from her hair, letting a few of her auburn curls drop nicely onto her shoulders.

After pinching her cheeks a bit, Nellie Lovett left the washroom, an extra spring in her step, only to run face first into a strong chest.

"Oomph."

Blinking a little, Nellie felt a pair of warm hands firmly grasp her shoulders to steady her. Looking up, she couldn't help but blush a little, her heart dancing.

"Good morning, Nellie," spoke the deep voice of Mr. Barker, offering her a smart smile. He let go of her shoulders.

Nellie snorted. "And to you." Noticing their close proximity, she moved back a couple steps, smoothing out her skirts.

Benjamin was giving her a funny, new look, but noticing as he fidgeted with the lapels on his jacket, Nellie wasn't too worried. He cleared his throat a little. "That's a lovely dress."

Nellie gave him an easy smile and looked down, deciding not to let him know that she was very flattered indeed. "Jus' a lil' thing I picked out for me birthday las' month," she paused, locking eyes with him now, her voice a little lower, "but thank ya, Mr. Barker."

Placing a hand on her shoulder, he mirrored her smile, seeming to not feel awkward anymore. "Do call me Benjamin," he said, his voice serious. "I'd like to think of us as more than acquaintances."

Nellie opened her mouth, knowing he heard him wrong, interpreting his words falsely. Her eyes wide, she couldn't speak.

Quickly catching onto what he had said, Benjamin's face grew hot. "As, well, _friends_, of course," he sputtered, politely removing his hand from her shoulder.

Nodding quickly, Nellie let out a chuckle. "Ah, yes, a'course," she agreed, her response jumbled. They stood, facing each other in the small hallway, an uncomfortable silence taking over them.

Fortunately, the small wail of baby Johanna broke their thoughts.

Nellie looked over her shoulder to the parlor, only to feel Benjamin quickly brush by her, rushing to his daughter. She placed a hand on the wall, leaning a little as she watched the father pick up a crying bundle from a nearby cradle.

Holding Johanna lovingly in his arms, Benjamin leaned down to shush the babe, kissing her cheeks, some of his brown locks falling into his eyes and tickling the fair skin of his daughter. The small child sniffed loudly, letting out little cries, but they soon died down as she snuggled into the arms of her father.

"There now," he murmured, smiling down at his angel. "Daddy's here."

Nellie was glued almost to the spot, very moved, still leaning sideways against the wall. She quietly imagined herself to be his wife, the baby's mother, looking upon her family.

And yet, as always, the yellow haired, virtuous slip of a thing was there to ruin everything.

Breathless and rosy faced, Lucy Barker rushed to her husband, slipping some shoes on in the process. A slimming pink gown made her look stunning, of course, which made Nellie feel very small in comparison. Benjamin chuckled, placing Johanna in her mother's arms, and reached to place a matching pink bonnet onto Lucy's head.

Strangely, Benjamin was giving Lucy the same look he had given Nellie only minutes before. "You look beautiful," he whispered, kissing his wife tenderly on her lips, both cheeks, nose, forehead, and possibly more if Lucy hadn't stopped him.

She had placed a soft hand on Benjamin's cheek. "Darling, I have to go," she giggled, giving Johanna a quick kiss before placing her back into Benjamin's arms. "Sophia is waiting for me."

"Ah, yes. Don't be too long," Benjamin called with longing, watching her leave.

Nellie, meanwhile, leaned off the wall and threw a glare in Lucy's direction. The little nit hadn't thanked him once, and seemed hardly appreciative of Ben's affection. Lucy didn't deserve his love, not at all.

Shifting her gaze back to Benjamin, she noticed that Johanna had began crying again, and wasn't stopping. A sort of motherly, protective vibe shot through Nellie and she approached the two of them. She gave Benjamin a shy look and he nodded, handing the wailing Johanna over to his landlady.

Johanna was lighter than she looked, Nellie discovered, gazing into her hazel eyes. The baby squirmed a little, having this be the first time Nellie held her, a bit frightened of this new woman. The baker soon gave Johanna the warmest of smiles, twirling a strand of her baby's blond hair with a delicate finger. Johanna sniffed again, seeming to settle, and gave Nellie a teary glance before reaching out and placing a pudgy hand on the woman's lips. A lovely feeling building up inside of her, Nellie kissed her hand, looking up into Benjamin's eyes.

Mr. Barker watched them in awe, never having seen Johanna become comfortable around strangers so quickly. The words that came from his lips were inviting and new. "Would you like to take a stroll?"

Ten minutes later, picture perfect, Nellie, Benjamin, and Johanna were walking comfortably in a fresh London park. Though Nellie and Benjamin weren't arm in arm, they still stood close enough to seem as if they were more than friends, at least to passer-byers. Delighted, Nellie smiled, talking to Mr. Barker about nothing and anything, a light breeze cooling their skin. She knew that he was only being friendly to her, and that this was nothing more than a common walk in the park, but to Nellie, it was all she had ever dreamed of.

They stopped at the far side of the park to rest a moment, sitting on a wooden bench. Johanna had been dozing lightly in Nellie's arms, but now as they sat in tranquil silence, her eyes fluttered open. Benjamin poked Johanna's nose and she giggled, her curious eyes exploring in amazement of everything around her.

Suddenly, the little Johanna's gaze stopped on a large tree that had began to bloom beside the bench. It's branches were sagging elegantly, thin petals twirling downward as the breeze shifted. The child gasped almost, pointing her finger at it, her eyes twinkling.

Benjamin looked behind them to see what was so interesting, only to laugh warmly in spite of the simplicity of Johanna's amazement. "My love, that's a weeping willow."

"Wi_wow_."

Nellie Lovett, who had been interested in Benjamin's tan complexion until this moment, focused her eyes now on the baby in her arms. "Did she..?"

Mr. Barker let out a hearty laugh now, clapping, taking Johanna from Nellie's arms to lift the baby high in the air. "Yes, yes she did! My angel said _wiwow_."

Johanna giggled a little, her tiny white dress blowing in the breeze, and she stared lovingly into her father's eyes. "Wiwow!"

Benjamin stood, so in love with his little wonder, smiling brightly. He moved so he was directly under the tree now. "Well, it's settled!" he declared, and Nellie stood, watching the two of them closely. "I here by name this weeping willow, Johanna's tree!"

It was then, Nellie knew, that she would always be head over heels in love with the barber upstairs.

* * *

This said barber violently pulled Nellie Lovett from her day dream, and she let out a yelp, feeling her back slam against a brick wall. Sweeney Todd placed a finger to her lips and she immediately silenced, everything much darker, everything aching again. She soon came back to earth and almost yelped again, remembering that London wasn't bright and glowing anymore.

Rolling his eyes in irritation, Sweeney kept his accomplice pressed against the wall, his right hand now on her shoulder, his left on Toby's chest. The boy had began to speak, bewildered from having been grabbed roughly and thrown into the shadows.

"Shut it," Sweeney whispered harshly, and not a second later did a handful of large, shouting men rush past them, carrying sticks with flaming torches, clubs, rakes, anything large that could be used as a weapon. Toby quickly understood, swallowing, closing his eyes tightly, and Sweeney pressed his body flat against Nellie's, making sure none of them could be seen.

A sort of a mob had formed, unfortunately, and they, too, were searching for the demon killer and devil woman. Word of them had spread like wild fire, and even though hardly anyone resented the death of Judge Turpin, it seemed that almost everyone had lost a friend, loved one, or acquaintance, to this killer.

The large crowd of men seemed fierce enough to kill, too, bearing their teeth, holding their hats to their heads, growling. They weren't, however, fierce enough to notice that their three enemies were only feet away.

Even when the wave of angry men were long gone, Sweeney kept Toby and Nellie pressed against the wall, none of them breathing.

Nellie Lovett wanted to faint. Sweeney's face was hardly inches away from hers, and even though his head was bloody and turned to the side, the warmth now radiating off him was overwhelming. Her eyes fluttered a little, and she shivered, wanting so much to never move again.

Almost a whole minute passed before Sweeney shifted away from the baker and boy, stepping backward and wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Nellie and Toby stood, rigid with fear, their backs still pressed against the wall, afraid to move.

Todd gave them both a sharp glare. "Come, both of you, I managed to contact Anthony, and he produced the coach." He turned on his heel, walking into the darkness of the alleyways.

Nellie loosened a little, nodding, breathing shakily. The both of them had planned so much previously, and she was now pleased with their work.

Toby was giving them both a puzzled, exhausted glance, and Nellie pulled him gently from the wall, patting his back. "It's alrigh', love. Let's be speedy now, follow 'im..." They were off again, following the hunched barber in a brisk stride, eyes adjusting to the darkness. It was late afternoon and the skies were already beginning to darken, longer nights approaching with cold weather.

Nellie's foot had acquired a pulse now, and it throbbed painfully with each step. In fact, it had grown so intense, that her heel began to distract her from her other aching limbs. A little limp in her step as they silently turned a corner, she tried to avoid stepping in anything too filthy.

"What's wrong, mum?" Toby whispered, having noticed her pained gait.

"Stepped on somethin' sharp," she admitted, deciding that ignoring this wouldn't be a smart idea, "Let's git in the carriage, first, Toby. Keep an eye out for dodgy things, now, not 'ow I'm keepin'."

Letting out a small noise of disapproval, Toby looked back in front of them to finally gaze upon two large horses strapped to a buggy.

Nellie looked to Sweeney now, a bit of apprehension in her voice. "Mr. T, whose gonna steer this thing, eh?" she asked, brown eyes flashing.

Todd looked behind his shoulder, raising an eyebrow, then turned back. "I will, of course."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh. Well then."

They quickly approached the carriage, Toby gallantly helping Mrs. Lovett inside with a strong arm. Sweeney pulled himself into the buggy last, closing the door securely behind them, before giving them both a bold, serious stare.

"You both have entered an entirely different world," he declared lowly, his gaze shifting sharply between the both of them. "Don't expect things to get easier over time. If anything, they will get much worse." Todd paused, seeming to struggle with his next words. He looked down to his feet. "This venomous world we live in does not offer second chances. It will suck the joy from you when you're the most happy, crush the love you once held so dear in it's greedy palm. Do not expect times to work in your favor."

Sweeney Todd looked up, sending a shiver through both Toby and Mrs. Lovett, and moved his way into the front of the buggy without another word.

Quick as anything, they were off, racing to leave London in this stolen carriage. Mrs. Lovett reached over and held Toby's hand tightly, squeezing it, having him squeeze back, both struck by the barber's words. They now knew that things would be much, much different from now on.

* * *

**A/N: Ha! Sorry, only about 30 minutes passed in this chapter, but I'm happy with it. I'll try to update again soon! I was watching the Oscars the whole time writing this, nearly yelled out when ST didn't win for costume designs, and ACTUALLY yelled out when Johnny didn't win. But hey, that's life. They won for set design, though!**

**Please, do review. I love you all. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thank you all for the birthday wishes :) They made me giggly and warm inside. Which, er, says a lot. Sorry for the delay, I recently got cast as Helena in A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I'm pretty ecstatic, I wanted the role so bad. Right. Anyways. Have to write that chapter now. Onto that!

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Chapter Eight

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The smitten baker and frazzled boy bounced lightly in their seats as their handsome carriage raced out of London, heading south. The dark cab was deathly silent as it sped in the murkiness of the roads, Nellie still grasping Toby's hand to comfort both the boy and herself. She turned to look at the child, a small frown tugging at her lips.

The boy sat, very tense, irritated almost, his eyes dark and glaring ahead of him, probably at Mr. Todd who was separated by a heavy curtain that led to the front of hooded buggy. The poor lad looked exhausted indeed, his blue eyes bleary, his face hardened and harsh. Toby, for some strange reason, seemed to struggle on keeping his gaze straight in front of him, not wanting to return her glance.

Weary, Mrs. Lovett let out a long breath through her nose, turning to look out the smeared window of the carriage, her voice hardly a murmur.

"'Ow long 'ave ya known?"

Toby's voice was firm, still staring straight ahead of himself, not letting go of her hand, in fact holding it tightly now. "A good while, actually," he admitted, "I overheard the both of you talkin' one night about what ta do with some of the clothin' and such from...the bodies." He was fumbling with his words, apparently very disgusted, troubling Nellie. "I didn't wan' to admit it to me self, I guess. I mean...it was a right awful thing ya did to those people, mum." He turned to look at her now, fearful almost, wanting to hear her deny the cruelness of her secrets.

Nellie wouldn't lie to the boy, though, focusing her gaze on the orange sunset that was smeared over the tops of buildings. "I know it was," she drawled quietly, abashed, "But Mr. T-"

"Why does everything 'ave to center 'round _Mr. Todd?_" Toby snapped suddenly, causing Nellie to look at the sunset with a stubborn disapproval. "E's all you think about, really! You get up in the mornin', and yer off all quick-like to see if 'e slept, when we both know that 'e down right hasn't. Then at lunch time, I see ya, constantly lookin' up at the ceiling with that worried lil' glint in your eye."

The boy paused now, his voice dropping so only she could hear if she strained. "And at supper, ya always are making 'im food and such, even though 'e never eats. Sometimes I feel invisible when you're day dreaming of 'im, like you've forgotten I'm there," he cut off, feeling foolish for having spouted on like this, letting go of her hand.

Nellie quickly turned to him, secretly glad he had changed the subject to himself, and yet her eyes flashed with a sharp motherly compassion. "Now I won't 'ave any of that," she exclaimed, taking him firmly by the shoulders. "Don' you even start _thinkin'_ such nonsense, Toby. I could never forget about you, love!"

She gave him a long, hard look, full of guilt and honesty. "You're like a son ta me, dear, if you weren't 'ere with me, especially now..." she trailed off, looking down for a moment, only a moment, coming back up to meet him with saddened eyes, brimming with tears. Nellie opened her arms and pulled the boy close to herself. "Don't you ever even think it, ya here me?"

Toby nodded quietly and succumbed to her affection, wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace. Then, gently he whispered:

"I won't ever again, mum."

Nellie ran a hand through his unruly brown hair, both of them falling silent, her arms and back aching as she held him firmly to her chest. They were so much alike, she realized, the thought having struck her in this returning silence.

The both of them would go to the ends of the earth to protect the ones they loved, would climb mountains if it meant they were safe and sound. Both were extremely hard workers, hardly ever whining, and always willing to lend a hand. The two of them were vulnerable, with wild hair and big eyes, practical souls, and Nellie decided that it was a blessing that young thing had found his way into her arms. They both needed each other and would soon depend on each other to survive this, as Mr. T called it, venomous world.

Mrs. Lovett soon felt Toby's grasp loosen from around her middle, and her eyes flicked downward to see him dozing lightly, a bit more at ease. "Poor thing," she mumbled, pulling him closer to herself, as if to shield way nightmares from his simple head.

She then, reluctantly, almost ashamed from Toby's earlier words, looked up at the heavy curtain separating herself from the driving barber. Almost an hour had passed since they had left London, and she reflected back to her casual fantasy of the day he would kill Judge Turpin.

Todd would bound down the stairs, drenched in blood, grinning wildly, and would swoop her up into his arms in one swift motion, kissing her soundly on lips, the demon from within himself having been slaughtered as well. She'd kiss him back, pink faced, not caring in the least that he was getting blood on her lips and dresses. The three of them would, of course, move away that night on an impulse, without a care in the world, to a nice little place by the seaside.

Yet, Judge Turpin was now slaughtered indeed, and as Nellie's head began to pound once more, her foot throbbing away still, hugging small Toby, her earlier day dream was as alive as her dear, rotting Albert.

Too much had happened in such little time, she concluded, almost too much for her to handle. It would be a couple more hours for it to have been only one day since she had been...assaulted.

The frail woman shuddered now, not wanting to think of it as rape, closing her eyes, the events soaking into her skin. She had been momentarily distracted from reality, the meaning behind it, all the aches and pains. She swallowed hard, memories from the evening before viciously snipping at her.

Judge Turpin had whispered horrible things to her, phrases and moans that made her skin crawl with disgust. She remembered how graphic it had all seemed, as he hovered over her in the dull light of the moon, as if the Lord had wanted her to remember every inch and detail of the torture she was being put through.

How her had throat seared, still screaming despite having been physically mute, and such a repulsive smell the man had carried: sweat, whiskey, cigars, a strong cologne. His lust for her was more violent than she could have ever imagined.

Nellie Lovett wouldn't admit to herself that she had weakened a little since the assault, physically and emotionally, but the inner strength she once held so dear was torn and stabbed at. She opened her eyes to gaze out the window, only to find her vision blurred with tears, feeling ill.

So ill, in fact, that she lightly moved Toby away from her, placed a hand on her stomach, and pulled back the velvety curtain with a shaking hand. "Mr. Todd, please, we 'ave to stop."

* * *

When they had left virtuous London, Sweeney Todd had tightly gripped reins of the galloping horse, his knuckles white, sitting with a rigid back in the rickety cushioned seat of the buggy. He and Mrs. Lovett had planned out many things, yes, but they had brushed past a vital detail: Neither Sweeney, or Benjamin Barker for that matter, had ever steered a coach.

The barber hadn't thought much of it, the men with their whips and polished shoes making the whole ordeal look entirely too easy. As he swerved sharply around what should have been a simple turn, however, Sweeney glared harshly at the horses, frustrated, cursing them under his breath.

Todd had made sure to tell Anthony to fetch a carriage with a long hood to shadow his face, knowing that he would otherwise be out in the open to be arrested and shot at. Even then, with no proper substance to hide behind, the pale man was pleased to find that the vermin of the world were oh so blind. He had easily sped past what might have been yet another mob of people, looking for the killers, following innocently behind another coach.

Soon enough, they were far away from the dirtied London, and he had managed to keep the two horses in front of him at an easy trot. Despite the devilish relief of escaping the police, Sweeney was vaguely disappointed in his lack of joy that should have been gushing out along side the blood of Turpin's neck. He hadn't thought much of what would become of him afterwords, but had assumed that the grief-stricken, sorrowful ropes would be cut, and perhaps he would join his Lucy in death, feeling merry to be with her again.

Nothing was making sense to Todd as he headed down an empty, gravely road to Norbury, his black eyes shining. The constant sting he had felt before Turpin's death was still lingering, mockingly, and much to his chagrin, it was the same emotion that had pulsed through him the night before, when he bandaged his broken landlady.

"...we 'ave to stop," spoke said landlady now, her voice breathy and deep.

Blinking himself out of his thoughts, he looked over his shoulder for a moment, not really looking at the woman, afraid of what feelings she would bring him. "Not yet, just an hour more and we'll be at that abandoned house you spoke of."

"Mr. T," she breathed, her voice lower now, "Unless you want to 'ave our main source o' transportation reek of yesterday's supper, you'd do as I say."

Sweeney made a face, turning to look at her closely now, seeing her flushed gaze. He grimaced.

Not five minutes later was he standing beside the cab and horses, awkwardly, trying not to gaze in Mrs. Lovett's direction as she emptied her stomach behind a nearby tree.

Much to Nellie's misfortune, even when she was sure everything was out of her system, the baker continued to lurch forward painfully, dry-heaving. Her eyes stung with tears of pain, her mind buzzing as she kneeled, grasping the trunk of the tree to keep herself from falling, doubling over once more. Hardly able to breath, she tried to turn to Sweeney, gasping for air as she lurched.

"Mr.--_Todd_--! I can't--stop--!" She wheezed, not realizing that she was weeping. Everything hurt again, her thoughts having numbed the aches before. But now, falling to the side, she clutched her stomach, in so much pain, heaving again.

Surprisingly, he was at her side in a matter of seconds, lifting her gently from the ground so that she was sitting up. Todd leaned on one knee, moving to the right of her, placing his hands gently on the sides of her neck. "Try to calm yourself a little," he mumbled, moving his fingers in a circular motion as he massaged her throat.

Blinded with pain, Nellie tried to take breaths, coughing more, the heaving wearing away with the warm caressing of Sweeney's fingers. Her eyes were shut tight now and she began to weep a little more, despite his suggestion.

"'E was--sucha--_bastard_--" she cried with each harsh intake of breath, her throat searing once more, "bloody--scum of--the earth--!"

Todd shifted so that he was in front of her now, his hands gentle yet firm. "He's dead now," he assured quietly, having a hard time taking in her sorrow when he had thought no one but himself could feel such pain.

Nellie's shoulders shook as she weeped, bowing her head down at his touch, her curls falling from her shoulders and rippling downward, not unlike the branches of Johanna's tree. "It doesn't feel like 'e is," she told him, catching her breath a bit more.

Sweeney couldn't bright a response from his lips and therefore remained to massaging her neck, noticing some color had filled her face again as she looked up to him with pained tears, her auburn curls askew, her dark kohl smeared, looking oddly becoming in the orange beams of the sunset.

"It will in time, pet," he muttered, knowing both of them must look like the true lunatics they were inside as they kneeled, disheveled, bloody, everything out of place.

Nellie slowly lifted her sordid gaze to his, quivering under his touch, and Todd moved his hands from her neck to her shoulders, keeping her steady.

"We should leave," he spoke, the barber's voice sounding garbled and faint to Nellie, another wave of nausea hitting her, making her teeter despite Todd's grasp.

Even so, she gave him a sickly nod, grasping onto his bloodied shirt as she attempted to stand. Todd awkwardly helped Nellie to her feet, making sure she was firm on the ground before letting go. Feeling uncomfortable with their previous proximity, he quickly moved to the cab.

Her vision fuzzy, she set her jaw, sweating profusely despite the nippy wind, and took a few shaky steps forward, a miserable noise building up in her throat.

And then Nellie met the ground, harshly, a dull throb in her head as the sunset dimmed and swirled into black.

* * *

**A/N: -dances- Yayay, short, I know. But a few things that have been troubling me have cleared up whilst writing this chapter. I'm happy with it. More detail will come about the abandoned house, not to worry! **

**Just a little note to all of you who read this story: MY MOUTH JUST DROPPED OPEN. As of right now, I have over 8500 hits on this story. MY GOODNESS. You have no idea how...how happy I am. 69 favs! 86 alerts! And nearing 200 reviews! I just want to thank you all, without you, I don't know. I'm so speechless, I don't know how to express myself through words for once. Just...thank you so much. I love you all for it.**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:Thank you all for the wonderful reviews, once again. :) I unfortunately have a horrid cold right now, which is lovely since I'm off for two weeks from school. So I'll just be hacking up my lungs, instead of going outside. Not that I would, though, there's still like a foot of snow outside. Anyways, yeah I babble, and I'll shut up and write this chapter  
**Much thanks to my new beta, _**MrsPiccolosWife**,_ who, even before helping me, had always given me a straight opinion on my chapters. Much much gratitude to you :)

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**Chapter Nine

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Nellie Lovett hadn't always loved the sea. In fact, when she was a young thing, she had grown to loathe it: dirty sand getting between her toes, the sun licking at her shoulders, making them burn. And of course, the myriad of happy families expressing delight in the vast blue waters, splashing, laughing, enjoying each others company. Any public act of humble love between relatives could make the young baker swell with jealousy, however, having no family but her aging grandfather to come home to each evening.

Her parents and brother had perished in a house fire when she was six, and Nellie had been relaxing in the beaches when the tragedy occurred. For years she was angered by the mere thought of the seaside or anything relating to it, as she blamed the waters for their death. The child knew it was foolish to accuse the wonders of the sea banks of serious incidents such as the passing of her family but Nellie thought that, perhaps, if she hadn't been walking along the shore on that August afternoon, she could have saved her loved ones from the hated flames.

Even though the memories pained her greatly, every Sunday as her grandfather attended the morning's mass, young Eleanor White, soon to be Mrs. Nellie Lovett, would slyly seat herself on the backside of a carriage that was headed in the direction of the docks. As the cab was passing the piers of the English Channel, Miss White would promptly leap off of the buggy and spend her morning looking out at the waves. The tides calmed her as they lapped at the shores, and the robotic breezy sighs omitting from the waters soothed her, made her forget about the grieving and loss.

Eleanor White, despite her youth, was a fierce little lady, being loud and ruthlessly stubborn ever since birth. She was a child of striking red curls and fair skin, taking the Irish traits of her mother. Miss White was surely the first to firmly shake the hand of someone new to the small town of Norbury, and would flash them the brightest of smiles, her large brown eyes always alight with wonder and curiosity. One couldn't have guessed that her family had perished recently as Eleanor passed, offering them a cheery wave and a nice, "Skies are mighty blue today, ain't they?"

Grandpa White, many assumed, was what kept the sparkle in the girl's eye.

Alexander White was a bald, slender man of sixty, complete with large ears and a toothy smile. Fortunately, he had taken Eleanor in as his own, after the fire, saving the girl from the horrors of London's orphanages and workhouses. He was a gentle, quiet man, very protective of his granddaughter. Alexander was grateful to have the little bugger around, having been a widow who's life was centered around keeping a quaint pastry shoppe, 'White's Delights'.

"Me grandfather's England's finest baker," little Eleanor would exclaim with wide eyes, throwing her hands in the air and stomping her foot, "I reckon 'is pastries are from heaven itself!" Miss White would often attract the business of White's Delights, placing herself in the front of his shop when she wasn't at the docks.

Almost a year having passed since the loss of her family, Eleanor sat herself atop her usual stool in the front of the pastry shop, watching her Grandpa White close up for the day.

"Ya wanna know somethin', Grandfather?" she inquired, grasping the sides of the cushioned stool with petite, pale hands.

The elderly man, sweeping near the doorway, gave her a small smile. "You're going to put something on those feet of yours?"

Eleanor quickly glanced down at her bare feet which she had been swinging casually in the air from the height of the stool. "I don't like shoes," she snapped indignantly, swiftly tucking her legs and feet underneath herself, her blue dress hiding them from sight.

Alexander stopped sweeping, placed two hands on the top of his broom stick and chuckled. Facing her now, he stood patiently. "Well then, what is it?"

Miss Eleanor White lifted her chin, giving him a valiant stare from behind her lashes. "One day, I'm gonna be the best baker in London! Better than you, even!"

Her grandfather raised two graying eyebrows, looking pleased. "I knew you'd follow my footsteps," he told her, his words shy.

"You better believe it!" the redhead peeped, hopping down from her stool to take the broom from him. "Now, go an' sit down, let me do this. Tomorrow we're goin' to the seaside, like ya said, right? You should prepare yourself wiv a good night's sleep!"

Grandpa White swiped a wild curl behind Eleanor's ear with a smile, and she hugged his middle before watching the bashful man leave wordlessly up the stairs. The aspiring baker finished sweeping the shop, humming a flighty tune as she twirled her dress in time with the beats in her head.

Miss Eleanor whistled the same euphony with a delightful ease the next morning, bounding down to the sea banks, reddish curls bouncing on her shoulders, dressed in her prim green bathing dresses.

"Isn't this smashing, Grandfather?" she drawled loudly over her shoulder, stopping at the edge of the tide, the cold water kissing the tips of her toes.

"Quite," Alexander called back, sitting himself politely on an empty bench.

Refraining from rolling her eyes at her skittish elder, Eleanor took a bold step into the icy water, laughing in spite of the shiver down her back. "Quite _indeed," _she retorted proudly, more to herself. She took a few more steps into the water before turning to the left to walk along the edge, the navy waves reaching her knees now.

And then, a sharp, prickling pain shot through her right foot, making her yelp in pain. "Ah! Blasted shells," she grumbled, taking a larger step away, watching her steps carefully now. Not a moment later, Eleanor was greeted with a larger pinch of biting pain on the heel of her foot, and she swung her foot away from the area, leaping onto the warm sand. Sitting, she looked at her now throbbing foot, running small fingers over the back of it to find nothing there at all.

A tickle began to form in the back of her throat, growing more intense with each breath, with each pulsing ache of her foot, until she began to cough harshly. Eleanor's throat was searing now and she tried to stand, tried to move to her grandfather.

"Grandpa!" she mouthed, her voice barely there, and she grasped at her neck with her petite hands.

"Mrs. Lovett," a voice snapped at her, filling her with a great puzzlement that coated her pain.

Eleanor, though she couldn't hear her own voice, managed to shoot back, insulted by the strange assumption that she was married, and she found herself unable to move.

The husky voice again shot at her, using the inappropriate name. Much to her dislike, she began to shake a little, roughly.

Her vision smeared and only in hues now, she frowned, troubled and afraid. "Don't call me that!" she demanded, not liking it at all.

Eleanor then heard her name, and she fell--so soft, so young, so lost...

* * *

Sweeney Todd knew he had put too much gin on her gash when Mrs. Lovett sent a flying foot in the direction of his head. He dodged it, barely, glaring at the distraught baker as she jerked a little in her fitful slumber. Her eyes were shut tightly, her face full of agony and confusion, coughing. 

"Mrs. Lovett," he grunted, not appreciating being kicked at when he was trying to dress her wound, a selfless, rare act for the barber.

She mumbled something having to do with 'not being married to an ugly butcher' and cried out, placing a frail hand on her throat.

Slightly annoyed rather than concerned, Todd leaned over to her and grabbed her shoulders. "Mrs. Lovett," he repeated, loudly now, wishing she would wake. He shook her a little, frustrated.

"Don't call me that!" the baker shot very clearly now, her voice ringing with disapproval.

Todd stopped shaking her, tired of fighting with her. Impatiently almost, he leaned his face closer to hers. "Nellie."

Her eyes shot open.

* * *

Nellie Lovett, no longer the carefree Eleanor White, gazed dumbfounded into a pair of beautiful eyes, black eyes. She soon drowned in the depths of them, not knowing it, and caught her breath, not daring to avert her stare. They were eyes swirling with a restless exhaustion, tinged with pain and regret, sparking eerily in the dark as they reflected the moonlight. Only partly with herself now, Nellie tried not to blink, wanting to hold onto this moment for a lifetime, to remember how grippingly alluring the bleak eyes were, making her feel almost coquettish. 

In a snap the moment was broken and the beholder shifted abruptly away, startling her. Trying to grasp at her surroundings, Nellie blinked, cringing as she sat up, her throat on fire. The figure with the bleak eyes was now turned from her, staring keenly out a broken window.

Sighing in relief, Nellie leaned her head back and closed her eyes, feeling overwhelmed from being snagged out of past memories. "Where are we, Mr. T?" she croaked, immediately regretting having opened her mouth as the tickling itch arrived in her throat again, making her cough.

Sweeney Todd, frazzled, clasped his hands tightly behind his back and continued to glare out into the night. "The house you spoke of." His voice was so deep, so low. Before she could react, he glanced with those alluring eyes over his shoulder before turning back. "Don't speak, woman."

Not daring to on account of the agony pounding away as she swallowed, Nellie nodded faintly and opened her eyes so they would adjust to the dark. Still foggy, Mr. Todd's words echoed in the back of her head.

_The house I spoke of? Couldn't he be more specific?_

However, as the darkness lifted a little and the edges of the room settled and became more apparent, a wave of nostalgia washed over Nellie.

The walls were jaggedly singed and cracked, parts of it broken up and crumbling. There was no door, only a large opening in the back that looked like it led to the rest of the house. Pieces of wood, cloth, and glass were scattered throughout the room, a fine layer of ash seeming to coat the room like snow.

Her old bedroom.

She had told Mr. Todd that she knew of a place that no one occupied, no one would look into, no one cared about. Nellie had passed it a year or so ago on her way to the large market down south with Toby, something she had planned on making a nice place to get away to, and she'd perhaps tell the boy of Norbury, of a little girl who used to live there. When they had passed this abandoned, broken down house, however, Nellie found herself wanting to never see it again.

So she had told Mr. Todd of this place, of his house that no one cared for. It had, of course, burned halfway down more than twenty years ago.

Something shifted beside her and Nellie looked to the right, a troubled Toby sleeping beside her, his cap on his chest, one arm covering his eyes. Furrowing her brow, she brushed her fingers against the cushioned material they were laying on, gripping what seemed to be a scorched mattress.

This sickly sensation of feeling ill was new and foreign to Nellie as she forced herself up into a sitting position, her foot twitching with pain again. She looked ahead of her, seeing her right foot bare and bleeding, a cracked bottle of gin on the floor below it, along with a grayish rag.

Faintly amused, the baker shifted her glance to the perturbed Sweeney Todd who was standing rigidly at the window, hiding his face from her. "Again yer 'elping me, Mr. Todd?"

Todd grunted something under his breath, reaching up to scratch his nose before turning his hands behind his back. "I told you not to speak."

Nellie's mouth fell into a thin line and she looked down at her loose black dress, the soreness of her back and limbs constricting her from getting out of bed. She, too, had assumed that he would be able to push back the grief and move on after the death of Judge Turpin. Todd's discomfort made her squirm a little and Nellie reached forward to her foot, deciding to distract herself by finishing his work.

Yet as she pulled forward, the motion forced herself to suck in a broken breath and she wheezed once more, falling back. Two gloved hands were placed on top of her face and she coughed a moan.

The creak of the ashy floorboards told her that Mr. Todd had moved from his position at the window, and Nellie looked between her fingers, her brown eyes settling upon the barber who was hesitating in front of her.

"Wot?" Mrs. Lovett yowled, not feeling up to his teasing.

Sweeney kept a firm glare on her feet, making sure to keep a distance before snarling a garbled, "Just reminding myself to be cautious."

She snickered, dropping her hands, his wary stature comical to Nellie and Todd frowned, kneeling again. He snatched the rag and gin, not waiting to pour the searing alcohol onto her cut, hastily dabbing at it with cloth.

Nellie seethed in through her teeth before shutting her mouth, knowing that her Mr. Todd was trying to help. His face screwed up in concentration and the room fell very silent as he wrapped the rag around her foot, tying a hasty knot to keep it in place. He looked up for a moment before averting his gaze back to the ground, standing. "Be careful next time you're running from the police," he mumbled, serious.

The aching baker rolled her eyes and let out a little breath. "Will do, Mr. T..." She studied the pale man now, raising her eyebrow and giving him a critical look over. "What's troublin' ya, love?" she asked, her voice still very hoarse, "I assume the bloomin' Judge is all nice an' dead now, why aren't you celebrating?"

Mr. Todd shot her a piercing glare but Nellie didn't flinch, determined in their little staring match. "Jus' trying to help ya."

A small rustling from the back of the room brought them from their challenging muses and the duo glanced in the direction. A pile of wood and other rubbish shifted lightly beside the doorway and an uneasy squeak escaped Nellie's throat.

Sweeney was quick to whip out his razor, pointing it firmly in front of him, black eyes flashing. "Show yourself," he growled, pushing his exhaustion away as he inched towards the movement.

Much to their surprise and apprehension, the mysterious doorway growled back. Bewildered, Mr. Todd took a bold step forward. "I will not hesitate to--"

A small, ferocious looking black kitten lept from beneath the wood and charged at Sweeney, hissing and tearing at the bottom of his trousers. The man had started back instinctively at first but now resorted to grimacing down at the tiny animal who was determined to cause him hassle. He groaned and attempted to lightly shake the cat off of him.

Nellie stifled a weary chuckle, relieved, and raised a finger to point at Sweeney's miniature attacker. "Look, dear, it's a little you!" she declared quietly, and Mr. Todd looked closer to see the fur of the cat's tail was a streak of white. He grunted, looking sheepish, and managed to nudge the feisty thing off his leg.

The kitten let out a small mew of defiance and jumped onto Nellie's mattress, dodging between her arms to hide itself under Toby's hat that was still laying upon his chest. Young Ragg didn't wake.

Sweeney Todd was not very pleased as the baker fell into a fit of throaty giggles, running her hands through her messy crimson curls.

"What is so titillating, Mrs. Lovett?" he snapped, reluctantly placing his razor back into the holster.

"Ah, dear, you gotta laugh once in a while, it's only healthy," she stated breezily, turning to Tobias. "Hun, wake up," Nellie cooed, nudging the boy gently, kissing his forehead.

Foggy blue eyes opening slowly, Toby stretched and cleared his throat. In an instant he sat up, clutching Nellie's arm, alarmed. "Mum, why are you sittin' up like this, you're gonna strain yourself," he scolded quietly, but the disgruntled meow of a ball of fur from below made Toby jump and he anxiously peered down at his hat which had fallen onto the floor. "Why is there a cat in me cap?" he questioned, trying to wake up.

Nellie patted his back. "The churlish bugger has taken a liking to it. I wouldn't fuss with it, darlin', it's a snippy little thing."

Toby nodded, rubbing his eyes, placing his hand on her shoulder. "There's a teapot in the front, mum, want me ta see if I can make something of it?" She wouldn't be surprised if he sensed the need to leave the two adults alone.

Yawning, Nellie coughed a thank you, placing her own hand on top of his.The boy was gone in a few strides, the cat dashing after him.

Sweeney had a hard time averting his gaze from Mrs. Lovett, still standing before the mattress, his pale face dull with fatigue. He hadn't really watched the two of them together before, and Todd was startled that he hadn't noticed how close they seemed. Simple glances and jumbled words could get so many thoughts across between the baker and boy, and he stood, staring in a stunned stupor.

"What's so titillating, Mr. Todd?" Nellie questioned slowly, mocking his words, rubbing her temples.

Todd let out a huff through his nose and sat on the opposite side of the mattress, looking to the window, the sun slowly rising above the trees. "One would say that it's strange seeing vivid affection when they thought it didn't exist."

Her heart wrenching for him, Nellie frowned. He was always so bloody morbid. "Why would you think such a thing?"

Troubled, Todd shook his head, placing his face in his hands. "I'm just confused, don't fret."

Clucking her tongue, Nellie reached out to place a small hand on his arm. "Lay down for a little while. Rest your eyes."

Her hand was so warm as it lingered on his skin, Sweeney fighting the urge to lean into the warmth. Instead he gave her a defeated nod, wanting to clear his mind, and spread out beside her, discontented face trying to settle.

Pleased and surprised to say the least, Nellie leaned forward and placed her lips to his temple. "Sleep well, my love."

Sweeney mumbled something about 'just resting his eyes' and he fell into a deep slumber, lines of worry and agitation melting from his sleeping face.

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**A/N: I tried to make this longer as I felt like I've been slacking on length lately. Do tell me your thoughts on this chapter and review :)**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

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Nellie found herself struggling to focus on her tattered rucksack when her demon barber was at such peace only feet away. Every now and then her eyes would flick upward to drink in the slumbering Mr. Todd, he who had curled himself into the bed, trying to grasp at the warmth that was streaming through the broken window beside them.

After a few minutes of stretching her aching limbs, Nellie Lovett had forced herself to get out of the withered mattress, knowing that she should move around to avoid becoming stiff with pain. As she bent forward to stand, her back and neck spasmed, angered. When she applied pressure to her bandaged foot it, too, began to throb like the rest of her body. The muscles in her legs were tender and sensitive to movement after sprinting in the alleyways of London, and the smallest of headaches had formed around her eyes, on the bridge of her nose.

More frustrated with her broken state than concerned for her own health, Nellie carefully massaged the soreness from her head with skilled fingers before moving, very slowly, to the emergency bag across the room she had packed months before.

A small whimper of protest rose in her throat as she knelt down beside the sack, her hunger for hope overpowering the need to rest. Untying the rough threaded bindings from its several knots, Nellie pried the sack open, smiling in relief to see that everything she had packed still lay inside.

She remembered that evening, that awkward night in June when she stood in the middle of her parlor, hands on hips, toying with Mr. Todd.

* * *

_A Few Months Earlier_

"Simply put," she pressed, taking another step towards Sweeney Todd who was seated on the piano's bench, "I'm a dirty woman."

The words brought the barber out of his daze and he blinked rapidly before settling his eyes upon her, his bleary expression saying enough.

Nellie made a face, waving an impatient hand at him, moving things around on her mantel. "You 'eard me. I know _you_ can go days wearin' the same blasted thing, but I'm not as puzzling as you. I enjoy bein' clean."

Mildly insulted, he straightened, glaring at her. "As do I," he snapped, his hands gripping his knees, trying to remain patient with this tittering bird.

Rolling her eyes, she strode to the shelf beside him, picking up what seemed to be a wooden jar of sweets. "Well, I'm glad ya told me," she hummed, taking the top off of the jar, "I'll pack some clothes for you too, then."

Sweeney squinted at her, drained. Everything she was saying was strange now that he was actually listening to her. "I never agreed to go anywhere with you."

The baker shrugged, placing the top back onto the jar, having pulled out a small purse. Putting the jar back on the shelf, she gripped the purse tightly in her hands, sending him a strong stare. "I assume you don't want to return ta Australia." She took yet another jar from the shelf, trailing off. "I think dungeons would be more suitable, if ya ask me, havin' you escaped when ye were miles away from here. Nice job confining people," she scoffed, looking inside the container, talking to herself. "Who knows? Maybe the neighbors are killers alongside us an' can help with our profits." She smiled suddenly, glancing back at him for a moment. "Charming, ain't it?"

Her words upset him and Sweeney stood from the piano bench, getting up to leave her, running a hand through his hair.

Nellie frowned, shoving everything from her hands on to the shelf, padding quickly over to him. Taking him by the shoulders, she attempted to stop him. "I'm sorry Mr. T, I didn't mean to sound like that," she insisted, and he tensed at her touch, making her let go just as quickly. He stomped around the corner and Nellie followed, brown eyes clouded with guilt, hushing her voice as to not awake Toby. "I'm just thinkin' of the future, love! What if they find out what we're doin'? What if we 'ave to leave? We can't just...just go without anythin'!"

Sweeney halted in his steps, his back to her, fists clenched. He stood there for an unsettling moment, Nellie staring at his back from the doorway of her parlor, wringing her small hands.

"I'd be wanted too, Mr. Todd, jus' as much as you. Although I'm not the one killin' people, grinding up the blokes is probably looked down upon." He still didn't move, and she took a hesitant step further, her voice very firm now. "I won't letcha be taken away from me, love. Not again."

His shoulders drooped a little bit, and Sweeney turned, seeming to soften, nodding just a little. Nellie beamed, elated with the fact that he had considered her words and rushed to him, throwing her arms around him without even knowing it.

He tensed yet again, her embracing catching the both of them off guard, and she slowly pulled back. "I, er, pardon me," she sputtered, looking down, smiling nonetheless.

Sweeney, black eyes void of anger or any form of emotion, placed a hand on her shoulder, something Benjamin often did those years ago. She shivered, and to her surprise, he spoke. "Thank you for caring for me," he mumbled, already taking his hand off her shoulder. Looking a tad uncomfortable, he cleared his throat, going back to his moody self. "Now. Pack up some things. And don't bother me again." He turned on his heel and left her, returning to his humble abode on the floor above her.

Even though Nellie had nodded quickly, speechless at the sound of his voice, she stayed in the doorway, biting the inside of her cheek, trying to hold on to the brief warmth of his hand on her shoulder.

* * *

Three months later, as the sore baker knelt, sorting through the items in the sack, she could almost feel his hand on her shoulder, the same uncertain, yet gentle warmth that he held for that small moment. She smiled, pulling out a clean white shirt for Mr. Todd, nuzzling her face in it, taking in his scent.

"Mum?" Toby peeped, having been behind her for the past few moments, his hand on her shoulder. "I-I was able make a fire in the fireplace wiv some old timber in the front there, but I couldn't make anythin' of the teapot."

She jumped, swiftly pulling away from the barber's shirt, knowing she looked foolish, the warmth having come from Toby, not memories. Turning to look at him, she forced a tight smile, noticing a blur of black fur running in circles around his legs. "The thing likes ya," she pointed out, wanting to bring attention away from herself, and his hand left her shoulder.

Toby nodded quickly, smiling softly, the kitten having placed little joy into his blue eyes. "Look at this, mum!" He averted his gaze to the cat wildly looping around his ankles. "Bugger, stop," he ordered clearly, snapping his fingers.

The churlish kitten came to an abrupt stop and looked up at him with curious, little black eyes, white tail swishing on the ashy floor.

Nellie couldn't help but laugh. "You named 'im _Bugger_?"

The boy shrugged, kneeling down to scratch the little thing behind the ears. "It fits 'im," he answered innocently, and she snorted again. "An' 'e responds to it, anyways. So I thought, why not...?"

Shaking her head, Nellie reached inside the sack and pulled out a clean shirt and trousers for Toby. "'Ere, love, change into these, then come rest some more. There's a long day ahead of us, it's only dawn."

Toby frowned, picking up the kitten, taking the clothes in the other hand. "But I'm not tired, mum, 'onest. Not at all," he pleaded, suppressing a small yawn. Bugger mewed, agreeing.

Patting the cat's head, Nellie stood, pulling Toby up with her. "Now, don't be foolish," she said, yawning herself, aching as she stretched upward a little.

Instead of responding, Young Tobias turned his gaze to Mr. Todd who was sleeping soundly on the mattress. A clever glint caught in his eye. "But there's not enough room now, 'e took me spot," he pressed further, Bugger looking from Nellie to Toby and back again, very jumpy and curious.

Toby slowly lead Nellie to the mattress. "You lay down, mum. Ya need it more than me, that's certain. Please?" he asked again, and Nellie stood hesitantly beside the old, large cushion. Toby set Bugger down and rushed over to the sack, pulling out the moth-eaten, pink quilt that was packed. Turning to her again to see that she hadn't layed down, he blinked, smiling. "Go on, mum, for me. I'm takin' care of you this time, like I said I would." He puffed his chest out, walking towards her with the blanket.

The weary baker, having been contemplating the situation, decided that sleeping next to Mr. Todd wouldn't be all that bad. She let out a little breath and sat down on the mattress, lowering her voice little. "Jus' don't leave the 'ouse, alrigh' Toby? And be careful with that bloody cat," she nodded towards Bugger who was running furiously in circles, "He's right loopy."

Glad that she had given in, Toby scampered to her side, the pink fabric bunched in his arms as she waited for her to lay down. "I know, mum, I'll be careful."

Nellie sunk into the scorched mattress, happy to find that it was fairly comfortable, and was about to ask Toby once more if he was sure about staying awake, when the man shifted beside her. A large arm reached in her direction and wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, a face nuzzling itself in her red curls. She let out a stifled gasp and Toby's eyes widened, boy and baker staying very still as silenced stretched between them.

Then, very quietly, Toby chuckled, the sight of a vulnerable Mr. Todd amusing him greatly. Even though he would watch them closely now, not wanting the barber to harm her, the young boy threw the blanket over them, whispering, "It's not like ya didn't want 'im to."

For the first time in a while, Nellie blushed, heart hammering at his touch, despite her aching body, despite the fact that the man holding her was still covered in dried blood. "Hush, you know I'd wake 'im if I moved," she whispered sharply, reaching for excuses.

Toby shrugged once more and wordlessly backed up a few steps, trying not to smirk, picking up his change of clothes from the floor, and left, Bugger scampering loudly behind him.

Once the boy had left, Nellie Lovett melted in his arms, having daydreamed of his touch for years. She tucked the blanket closer to them, a large smile spread across her lips. Sweeney's hot breath hit her shoulder, steadily, and her eyelids drooped downward, very content. "Thank you," she breathed to no one in particular, snuggling into this new warmth.

Once she had fallen into a deep slumber, Mr. Todd shifted closer to her, unaware of what he was doing, and mumbled a sleepy, "You're welcome."

* * *

**A/N: Short, I know, but I wanted to give you all something :) A little calm intermission for you. A lot is planned out for the next chapter, don't you worry. I'll try to update soon.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: My deepest, deepest apologies for such a long wait. I had some horrible writer's block and needed to take a vacation from writing for a little. But I'm alive at last, and I'm full of joy! I love all of the fans of this fic, I really hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

* * *

Tobias Ragg hadn't always believed in love. In those cold nights at the workhouse, as he curled closer into his thin mattress, clutching to the stained, shredded sheet that he had been wrapped in as a baby, breathing loudly as to block out the whimpers from the children around him- love was feigned and pretended, an artificial lie.

And as he fell into a fitful slumber each night, back sore from lashings, hands scratched from knicking himself in the factories, the boy would drift off thinking ill on those who claimed that they loved, that one could love. No one had ever offered him any sign of gratitude, affection, or respect in the ten years of living in the workhouse. So love, this frivolous feeling, was all so far-fetched. Toby had refused to consider, to deem it possible.

This was all before he had met Mrs. Nellie Lovett, of course.

It had been almost two years since he had fallen into the mud on that dreary winter evening. He would never forget the echoing laughter of the crowds around him, how they snickered and pointed at the little waif, the filthy scamp who tripped over someones extended foot. He remembered the towering top hats on the heads of gentleman, their finely pressed waistcoats, the glint of the metallic canes being nudged in his direction

Toby had been ashamed, knowing the dirt and grit that was to stain his tattered clothes wouldn't wash out soon, and he attempted to stand as he wiped some mud from his eyes.

Abashed, the boy fell once more, harshly onto his bottom, and the laughter rose in volume, making him dizzy. He shut his eyes for a moment, head bowed as he gripped his throbbing knee.

A light voice, like an angel. "Stop!"

It cut through the laughter, becoming louder. Whoever held this rare concern for the boy in the mud was angry, and she yelled over the crowd. To his weak surprise, the strong cockney accent of the woman was coated with a guilty worry.

"Cut it out, all of ya!" The woman snapped some more, and some of the crowd protested, shouting back at her. Her anger rose, and it became evident that she was struggling to keep her words clean.

Toby's knee was killing him and he tried to move it around, making him suck a quick breath through his teeth as it twinged.

"Dear? Are you alright?" Snow began to fall.

He jumped a little, startled, blue eyes flying open to see his angel kneeling beside him, clutching her floury skirts high as to not get them in the mud, a small hat pinned in her hair. This woman, his savior with rosy curls, lowered her voice to a murmur and smiled a little. "I'm not gonna hurt you, love."

Paralyzed, afraid to break his gaze upon the lady, Tobias remained still, mouth opening and closing, sound ceasing to escape.

The corners of her lips tugged downward and she turned to look over her shoulder at the irritated crowd.

"Go away, will ya?" she drawled firmly at them, brown eyes narrowed in disgust, "The boy's done nothin' to you!"

Slowly, reluctantly, the crowd thinned, all scowling at the baker who had ruined their amusement, some spitting in her direction. Not at all affected by their disapproval, the woman turned back to Toby, snow dancing around them. "Now. Let's getcha on your feet, hmm?"

The boy, still staring at her from behind some strands of dark hair that had fallen infront of his face, was only able to nod faintly. "Thank you, ma'am," he mumbled lowly, hardly able to force the words out of his mouth.

His angel grasped him firmly from under his arms and pulled him upward, and he cried out a little as his knee throbbed again. She let out a small noise of concern, looking him over, a chilly wind picking up in the air.

"Poor dear," she breathed to herself, those big eyes flickering in the light of the lamp post across the street. She met his gaze once more. "Don't listen to 'em. They're a bunch of gits, they are. Thinkin' all because they've got money and payin' jobs that they're entitled to doin' scum to folk like us," she placed her small, gloved hands on his shoulders.

Young Ragg remained still, mind still swirling, thrown off by this attention.

The pale savior looked down for a moment. "It took all of me strength not to curse at them, ya know," she looked back up, a hint of humor in her voice. "You're a lucky little lad that didn't 'appen, too. You don't want ta see me angry, it could 'ave gotten nasty."

Toby allowed himself to smile, just a little, at her words, her hands warm on his shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the wind picked up and blew the grey hat from her head and into the streets behind her. She rolled her eyes and turned from him. "Bloody thing," she hissed at it, moving quickly in the direction, clutching her skirts again.

He chose this time to leave the woman, not wanting to trouble her further, and he ran into the backstreets, hearing her call out for him in the distance.

Blinking, Toby shifted beside Bugger, eyes scanning over to the angel and her barber laying on the scorched mattress before him. The boy had propped himself up against the wall by the gaping doorway, and as the time passed, his knees bent and he slid down to sit against the ashy wallpaper. The small kitten was sleeping contentedly in the pile of his dirty clothes on the floor next to him, Toby having obediently changed into the new ones that Mrs. Lovett had handed to him.

He smiled again now, despite all of what they had recently gone through, besides the fact that the two adults resting infront of him had killed people, grinded them up, served them to London. It was now, oddly, as Toby scratched the fur behind Bugger's ears, finding that his own eyes were drooping themselves, that love was so very real.

Nellie Lovett had been awake for some time now, and yet her eyes were still closed. She remained silent, breathing deeply as she must have been when she was slumbering, quite in the state of bliss. In her sleep, she had managed to turn over and curl her face into the crook of the barber's neck, nose nuzzled by his collarbone, her hands resting against his chest. He, too, had pulled closer, the hand that was around her waist having moved upward and now gripped her neck gently, so gently.

It took all of herself not to tremble with delight, their closeness toying with her emotions. Everything else around her, all other things on her mind, had melted away. All that remained was a Mr. Sweeney Todd, he who was holding her close, warmly even. Maybe not on purpose, but it was more than okay to Nellie. Needing to calm herself, she focused on his heart beats tapping into her palm, steady and entrancing, and began to count them. One, two, three, four...

The baker was oblivious to the fact, but Sweeney Todd had been awake for some time now, too. His eyes were also closed, as they both pretended to sleep, both hiding an identical secret.

It scared him, almost, finding himself unable to move away from her, even after he heard the shifting in her breath. She was awake. He was awake. And yet they couldn't move.

He was so fatigued now, more exhausted than he had remembered being in quite some time. As exhausted as he had been in those anguished nights of Australia. This demon barber felt weak now, as if his purpose of life was now diminished.

It _was_ diminished. The man that had wronged fifteen years of his life was dead, had died brutally under his hand. Todd couldn't grasp at why he was weak now, not prevailing. He pondered this as he buried his face deeper into sweet smelling curls. He breathed in deeply before letting out a long sigh, a hopeless breath, counting the baker's heart beats in his palm, the palm that was gently resting on the side of her neck.

The woman beside him, his bloody wonder, his pet, seemed so innocent now. She who was inhaling deeply, exhaling deeply, fully awake. How she had thrived for him those years before, and still does now, and how he couldn't understand why she stayed loyal and forgiving, even in the nights when silver was pressed threateningly to her neck.

How stubborn could this woman possibly be? It had been months now, almost a full year since he had returned to Fleet Street. Almost a full year since Todd had firmly informed her that dear Benjamin Barker had died long ago. He had made it clear that the innocent, rosy-cheeked barber of the past would cease to resurface in the monster that was now Sweeney. It was impossible.

Yet, aside from all warnings and half hearted pleads, Mrs. Lovett remained beside him to this very day. She was more loyal than Lucy had been, despite what his mind insisted. The baker hadn't left her pie shoppe for those fifteen years. All that time when she could have easily gotten married and moved to the sea, that blasted sea.

Her tenant seemed to be more important than her silly dreams of her future. Or, perhaps, her tenant _was_ her silly dream.

Todd felt the baker's pulse quicken beneath his hand, and he suspected that she knew he was awake, too. Everything was silent, almost peaceful. And then:

"Why," he breathed, her hair tickling his lips. He felt her set her jaw, and one of the largest chills racked his body. Her eyes had remained closed, Todd knew they were, he knew his Mrs. Lovett that well.

"How could I not?" It was hardly a question, but there was such emotion, almost desperation, that he heard.

"He's gone."

Nellie inhaled. "I know."

"And he didn't love you."

Exhaling this time, as Nellie feeling that dreadfully familiar knotting in her chest. "I know."

The barber was almost angry now, her forced acceptance of their past mocking him, mocking her.

Nellie sensed his irritation, and her face grew hot. Part of her wanted to cry, but she thought against it. She sniffed, mumbling into his neck. "I need this, Sweeney."

Again there was silence, with the exception of Toby's light snoring.

It was midday, now, sunlight creeping from the windows and spreading throughout the destroyed bed chamber.

Nellie willed herself to open her eyes, her eyelashes brushing against his bloodied skin. The events of yesterday were still vivid in her mind, and she felt so guilty. The gasping face of his crazed wife and the sound of her body dropping to the floor...it was all too much to handle.

Now, laying in the arms of a killer, the accomplice slowly decided that she was to tell him of her lies, today. It had to be done. No matter how much she would rather wish to stay like this, snuggled, pressed against him, for years and years.

There was a booming crash from the front of the rickety house, echoing loudly to reach the bedroom, followed by sharp, repetitive cracks of wood, the sound of timber snapping. Then came the angered voices.

Todd had shot up so quickly from his position that Nellie almost screamed, having startled her greatly. In seconds he had a razor in each hand. Tobias, now very awake, was receiving the end of a halting stare from Sweeney. Immediately understanding, somehow, the boy jumped to his feet and stealthily moved from the room.

She was about to protest, about to yell in worry, but she was swiftly whirled upward into Todd's arms and placed onto her feet. Blinking rapidly, mouth open in fear, Nellie was shoved into the nearby closet. He slammed the door, ash billowing around her from such force, making her cough and he gave her a dreading glare from the crack in the wood. Then he was gone.

The baker whimpered, half asleep and fretting, vaguely comprehending what was happening, enveloped in the darkness of the closet. She heard yet another hammering crash from outside the room, followed by what had to be an angry bellow from Toby, and she forced herself to remain silent. A piercing wail hit the air, the wail of a man, and she heard glass shatter, things being thrown. She squealed, trembling, and quickly slapped a hand over her mouth.

Nellie struggled with the urge of cavorting from the closet and aiding them, protecting them, anything but listen to the violence from afar. She placed her other hand on her chest, tremulous now, and nearly stumbled when she heard the slow creak of footsteps enter the bedroom.

Holding her breath, the flustered baker took a few small steps back, her back hitting the wall behind her. Looking through the crack, she saw a hefty man with heavy helmet and a navy suit advancing in her direction, dark eyes narrowed. Her whole body quivered and she pressed her hand harder against her mouth, eyes shut tight, the creeping groans of the old floorboards growing louder, closer.

The footsteps ceased their creaking for a long moment and Nellie tried to imagine herself shrink in size, to blend in with the burnt wood, realizing that she was huddled between a couple of her old dresses, now charred, that she used to wear quite often as a child.

The wooden door snapped in half, a large foot having kicked into it, barely missing her elbow, and Nellie screamed in her palm. The gruff man sneered at her and kicked the rest of the doorway down before thrusting towards her, grasping her arms tightly.

Being violently pulled from the closet, Nellie screamed curses at the man who, now in the light, was obviously a part of the constabulary.

"Silence, you slag!" The man screamed in response, and she glowered at him, struggling to get away from his grasp by squirming in every other direction. Frustrated, the constable rammed her into the wall, pressing her cheek to the wood, and Nellie let out an angry yell. She had gone so far, this couldn't be happening to her. Being hung was not on her list of things to do.

The man, clenching his teeth, pulled a large pair of chained handcuffs from his belt and forced one onto her wrist, cutting into her skin. She seethed, still struggling, knowing that it would seem foolish to plead her innocence.

Desperate, Nellie closed her eyes tightly again and bellowed, "Mr. T!"

The man rammed her harder against the wall, so painful on her bruised skin, and felt the rusty chains move toward her other wrist.

Tobias Ragg then bounded into the room, nose bloody, hair askew, baring his teeth, and he jumped onto the man's back.

"Get off of her!" The boy grunted, trying to strangle him by wrapping his elbow around the constable's neck.

Now very agitated, the policeman let go of Nellie temporarily before taking a hold of Toby and throwing him down, crashing onto the floor. Kicking him, the man cursed at him in his raspy voice, and tears leaked from Nellie's eyes. She kicked the man smartly in the back of the knee and he fell over a broken chair with a low thud.

Face flushed and eyes burning, Nellie leapt to him and lifted his head before sending it violently down into the wooden floors. Again and again she rammed his skull into the ground before she was sure he was unconscious.

Cries threatening to crawl from her throat, Nellie heaved and rushed to Toby who was lying as still as the constable only a few feet away. She lifted his head, too, but cradled it this time, whispering hurriedly, "Open your eyes, dear, please. Toby, please, get up!"

The thrashing from the other room silenced and, still cradling Toby, the baker whipped her head in the direction of the doorway where a stumbling Sweeney Todd, even more bloody if possible, had appeared.

To her surprise, however, he was giving Nellie one of the most heated glares she had ever seen grace his features.

"She was alive, and I killed her!" he roared, leaning against the wall for support as he walked towards her, not caring that they had almost been caught by the authorities. Tears were in his eyes. "You hid her from me. You filthy bitch!" His voice was a growl once more.

Nellie Lovett, fighting for her coherence, overwhelmed, gaped at him, but he lifted a hand to stop her, a hand smeared with rubies. His lip curled in hatred, and as he gripped the door frame, she could tell he was struggling with something.

"_Burn in hell_."

And with that, her beloved barber was gone.

* * *

**A/N: Before you shake your fist at me, don't worry. I plan on explaining everything in the next chapter. Excuse any typos, I'm just so eager to post this. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: I apologize once more such a lack of updating, blehh. I haven't really found a lot of time just to write for the fun of it, with school ending. I have a twin brother who has autism, and my grandfather just passed last night, so things have been more hectic than usual, blahblahblahlifeblahblah. I hope I haven't lost any readers in this lapse. Your reviews make me smile. :)**

**Also, I think I've hit the realization that I needn't write for the feedback to boost my poor, pathetic ego, but to write as an expression, as an art. I do wish for feedback if I am lacking in keeping the characters realistic to Stephen Sondheim's adaptation, and anything that may be puzzling, but I don't think that I should trouble myself over making anything perfect. So, for you all, I give you a short chapter that I came up with a few nights ago.**

**I hope you enjoy my musings.**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

* * *

Merely stumbling out of the decaying house became a large feat for such a pained man, such a troubled, corrupted soul. Within the seventeen years of being separated from his wife, his most cherished sweet, Benjamin Barker had been heavily whipped, beaten and persistently tortured. Such grievances had drowned him, pulled him downward into the fires of his rising hatred. As the guards of the blazing Australia evenings would kick him to the ground, curse at him, the suffering man would dream only of his Lucy, of escaping the hell in which he was strangled and mocked.

Toils of which would explain the anxiety, and yet devoted patience that settled inside of this man who had lost his senses, he who had been devoured by insanity, by the devil. Especially on the day he had set foot once more onto the filthy streets of London. Only part of him had understood that when he would stand before the angelic Lucy Barker and her daughter of now sixteen, the love shared would no longer hold itself to the unfaltering passion of the past.

Lucy Barker was a widow now, and would not be interested in the monster that had returned.

Foremost, it was the early ignorance once held that now bit away at Sweeney Todd, as he staggered down the stairs of the back porch, one hand furiously gripping at his hair, the other squeezing the golden ring in his palm,_ her_ golden ring. The ache in his heart was terrifying and it increased with every step. He was blinded by the image of his wife falling limp onto the ground, dripping rubies.

How could he have been so careless, so peremptory in his wild malice? His wife had been running to him, arms spread open, ready to accept the beast that had been yearning for her compassion--and he had slit her throat, greedily, smiling even.

Todd's breathing was erratic and violent now, his feet having pushed him far away from the house, away from the wretch he had to escape from. Now alone, teetering in a field of yellowing grasses, he collapsed to his knees with a cry. This sorrow that was now gripping the span of his thoughts had worn out any other feeling from his being. All that remained in his broken, broken man was dejection.

Despite what the limited sense in him protested, Sweeney was thrown back to the terror of minutes before.

It was almost a strained loyalty that he held when shoving Mrs. Lovett into the closet, glaring sharply to force her safety. He had enough time to hide his accomplice, knowing that the stare he had thrown at Tobias would kick the boy into fighting off whatever was hunting them down.

Todd had then bounded confidently out of the room and into the kitchen, everything black and chipping from the earlier fire, only to witness a lanky constable punching young Ragg in the nose.

Another official, short but broad-shouldered, had noticed his entrance and charged at him, threatening Todd with his authority, but the barber was too quick: his razor shot forward and plunged deep into the constable's chest before twisting sharply around in a circle, inflicting more pain and causing the man to tumble backwards over a wooden stool, breaking it in the process.

Sweeney had yanked the razor out of the constable, blood pouring from the wound beneath the navy uniform, and jerked the silver over the man's throat before anything else could come from him.

"It's true: you _are_ a lunatic!" the lanky constable had then bellowed with such enmity, honest repulsion, his pistol aimed forward. Todd saw his finger move to the trigger, but Tobias, hatred clear on his countenance, had lifted a broken chair over his head and was sending it smashing on top of the pistol-bearing enemy.

A piercing crack of the gun had echoed and Sweeney threw himself behind a charred counter top, just barely missing the bullet, unbeknownst to a hefty policeman sneaking past to the bedroom, looking for Mrs. Lovett.

Todd growled, emerging from behind the crumbling counter to see Tobias dodge an old vase thrown by the lanky official. The determined man was now on the floor, stomach-up, clutching his bleeding head beneath the remnants of the wooden chair. The pistol was laying a foot a way, having dropped from his hand.

It took only a few strides to reach the man, and Todd kicked away the pistol before slamming his foot downward onto the man's forehead. The thud produced from the wooden floors beneath him was immediately satisfying. The barber shifted his foot to dig menacingly into his throat, keeping the intruder still.

"Y-You ungodly killer," the constable had rasped, reaching forward in an attempt to move the foot from his throat. Unfortunate for the constable, Tobias kicked his hands out of the way, bringing about a dreadful crack from one of the wrists. The boy then pounced onto the man's legs, grabbing onto them with a firm tenacity, despite how harshly the man swerved and kicked.

Todd had soon swooped down to kneel over the man, snarling, threatening, silver friend now shoved so close to the the throat of the constable. "Would you rather me a _godly_ killer?" the barber mused, teeth bared, almost entertained by the thought, "I suppose, sir, that this hellish purgatory we live in deserves to brim with angels of death."

The blue eyes of the constable had grown foggy with fright. "You needn't sway me with words of imminence," he trembled, "for the life you cling to is worthless, _heinous_ compared to those that have died under your hand--!"

"--the hand that has been tortured, as well, by wretched demons!" Sweeney had roared, digging razor across throat, furious, jerking the blade back and forth over the neck even after the blue eyes were drained of life.

A considerably long minute had passed and Todd calmed himself, adjusting to how angry he had become, how quickly his vision was altered and smeared with red. The Toby boy, he noticed, had ran back to the bedroom, having been the only one hearing the screams of Mrs. Lovett.

Blinking hard, Sweeney rose from his position, stiffly, and threw a hard glare down at the murdered official, a pool of blood forming around his head.

Something then caught his eye: the constable's left fist was closed, weakly holding something. Disgruntled and recovering from his outburst, Todd had nudged the hand with his foot, opening the palm.

A ring. Golden, fragile, shimmering in the beam of light from the window. Just the sight of it had made Todd's face soften, nostalgic, and he bent down to pick it up, gingerly, with the tips of his fingers. He brought the ring to his face as to study it closely, almost shyly, and he read the engraved words that were etched on the inside, a swirling cursive:

_A token of love to my sweet, my darling, my Lucy. -B.B._

Breath had caught in his throat, and all at once, the black eyes of the demon barber dimmed, dull, glistening. "Lucy..."

He was then jerked back to the day before, to when he had pulled back the dirty shawl of the crazed woman and tugged the razor over her throat. And as she fell, choking and spluttering, the now broken chain of a necklace had flung to the left, the rusted chain holding this beloved, golden ring.

Sweeney Todd moaned, despairingly, unable to avert the stare that was centered upon the ring in his palm, the yells of Lucy ringing in his ears. 'Benny!' she had called before, with such love. He was oblivious, almost, to the fact that she had began to run away from him, after her cries of love, of devotion, unseeing to the facet of Lucy's insanity.

His world swirling, a lump formed in his throat, and his mouth dropped open in agony. "I killed her," he had whispered, shaking his head quickly now, chest rising heavily with each strained breath. "I killed her. Oh god, I killed her."

Another vital, essential detail pounded in his ears alongside his heartbeat: Lucy Barker had been living, she wasn't gone, she hadn't left the earth. Mrs. Lovett had lied.

Agony pivoting to rage, Todd had whipped around and half ran, half stumbled to the bedchamber, his face growing hot, needing to hurt something, anything.

A pang, stopping him, halting him in his steps just before he entered the bedroom, making him seethe with confusion and regret. This pang, this twisting ache from inside of him, was holding back the rage that was to be plowed upon the baker, she who was cradling Tobias.

Completely frustrated, Todd attempted to move further towards her, but his hand hadn't ceased from clinging to the door frame. Looking down, consumed by grief, grief that was gnawing away at him, he felt his lips move, "She was alive, and I killed her!"

Eyes flicking upward, sharply, brimming, "You hid her from me," he had moaned, almost a woeful snarl, "You filthy bitch."

He had to bring harm to this wretch, this whore, this liar. Todd's chest jerked forward, and he seethed again, unable to move from the doorway, knowing that he'd cause much more harm to himself than to the wretched baker if he lingered further. Ironically, although the barber had lost his senses, he hadn't lost any wisdom.

Todd lifted his hand, his bloodied hand, and growled the whisper, "_Burn in hell_."

* * *

This late afternoon was a windy one, the ending of Autumn, and the grey skies above Sweeney Todd were clustered with dark, billowing clouds. A deafening thunder boomed unceremoniously as the barber clutched at the grass, angrily heaving loud sobs, unabashedly. Alone in this whirling field of aging leaves and swaying branches, the misery that gripped at the murderer was powerful enough to mirror the echoing thunder above him.

Lifting his face from the grasses, the barber opened his shaking hand, finger by finger, gazing once more upon the golden token of love. "My sweet, my darling, my Lucy," he whispered, lifting his opposite hand where a similar, golden ring was around his smallest finger. As he stared at the two rings, he noticed that seemed to have lost a certain sheen, the glimmering effect that had originally drawn him to them those years ago.

Slowly, anguished, Todd slipped the ring from his finger, pinpricks of rain beginning to tap into his back, and let both rings fall from his hands, his head tipping to the side, mouth opening slightly. The stormed picked up, considerably, and he looked up into the thick, darkened clouds, rain pelting downward to soak his body, washing him, cleansing him, trying to help him forget.

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**A/N: For the sake for the handful that have asked, _no_, this is definitely not the end! I plan on making this very long, don't worry. :)**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Wow, so it's been another full month? This is horrible. Unfortunately, even though it might sound like an excuse, my other grandfather passed on the ninth. Yeah, I know. It's only been a month since my father's father passed, now my mother's father is gone. Things have just been extra hectic lately, but I decided today, after coming home from the funeral, that I really should start writing to get my mind off things. Thank you all for you earlier condolences, by the way. **

**Don't worry, I'm a strong, optimistic person. All of the future chapters won't be dull and grey and meaningless. I do like writing angst, though. Even if I'm not in any emotional pain, words seem to come to me. Anyways, I'll stop this long author's note to present the next installment.**

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Chapter Thirteen

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For the longest while, all Nellie did was stare at that crumbling, ashy doorway, mouth open ever so slightly, mind buzzing. Nothing seemed real. Nothing seemed sane. She couldn't bring herself to move from the floor, where Toby was laying unconscious, bleeding. Yet, battling with herself, she longed to spring upward and dash to Sweeney, to stop him, to shower him with countless apologies.

Even if the barber would have kill her right then, despite her sincerity, Nellie wouldn't of minded. As long as Mr. Todd knew that she wasn't out to hurt his already wounded soul.

Rarely blinking, Nellie remained kneeling, face flushed, dress ripped. The rumbling thunder that had collected outside mounted to a crescendo, booming so intensely that it shook the room, dust and ash drifting from the ceiling.

This had brought the baker temporarily from her thoughts and she closed her open mouth, washed over with shock, not wanting to think or feel anymore. She was sick of hurting so much, of being used, being rejected. Again, she was reminded of Turpin's greedy, greasy hands exploring her body.

Shutting her eyes very tight, the baker seethed in, lip quivering, struggling to push away the vision of Mr. Todd snarling in the doorway.

"Enough," she mumbled to herself, a throaty plead, and she bowed her head, attempting to numb her mind. Crestfallen tears trailed down her pale cheeks, over her jaw, sliding down her neck. She had tried so desperately to warm him, to nourish and brighten him, and this rigorous failure began to consume Nellie Lovett.

Regardless of her caution and Sweeney's heated rejection, Nellie knew that her barber wouldn't last long, alone, lost in the rain. He would have already forgotten that police were after the three of them, and would be at a high risk of being caught in his sullen depression and rage. Devoted, that's what Nellie was. Incessantly devoted.

Biting her trembling lip, she sniffed and centered her attention on young Toby at her lap. His face was too faded, his cheeks no longer holding a boyish pink. Thoughts mainly on Sweeney, Nellie wiped the blood from his nose with some of the cloth of her skirts.

"Toby dear," she cooed in her soft, crackling voice, "Come on, love, please snap outta this..."

Sniffing again, she smoothed out his hair, shaking his small frame a little. Her voice raised, "Please, Toby. Wake yeself up."

Lightning flashed and lit up the darkened bedroom, and Nellie started to shake. _Mr. T...all alone in the storm._

Toby wasn't budging, poor thing, his nose continuing to bleed, so she collected him in her arms and stood on unsteady legs. Nellie was ashamed of herself for considering to leave the boy there, so she could venture out in search of Mr. Todd.

A violent boom of thunder startled her greatly and she nearly dropped Toby, her own wrists bleeding from the earlier handcuffs. The ceiling creaked ominously, wood snapping, and Nellie shot her gaze upward, eyes wide, filled with dread.

This crumbled, ancient house wasn't going to hold up much longer. They had to get out.

Just then, a groan came from behind her, from the woozy constable she had attempted to knock out. Gasping, Nellie turned and kicked the back of his head, putting the policeman back in his place.

A series of low cracks from above warned her, brought her back, and lightning lit the room for another moment. Ash began to drift from the ceiling like snow. Fleetingly, Nellie dragged Toby and herself to the corner of the room, snatched her bag of clothing and money, and staggered to the door.

Hair askew and tumbling over her eyes, she struggled with the bag and boy, moving as fast as she could considering her own aches and pains. Not two seconds after leaving the bedroom, half of the ceiling caved in, covering the constable and mattress with the half of the upper floor.

Nellie let out a scream, trying to dodge the falling pieces of glass and wood, running out of breath. The burnt house was practically chasing her in its destruction, and the baker let out a cry when she reached the front steps, flinging herself and Toby onto the lawn.

The rain was pouring so persistently that it nearly hurt when meeting her skin. Woman and boy had landed on top of the emergency bag, and she rolled over onto her back, craning her neck to look back at her wooden enemy.

All very quickly, the house sank to a point in the middle, dirt and ash billowing around, the very structure of her parent's house deprived of everything it used to be. Chest heaving, Nellie set her head back onto the grass, coughing from the ash, and let the rain soak into herself.

A few minutes passed as Nellie collected herself on the grass, eyes closed, Toby laying beside her. It was growing into evening already, and her second day away from London was coming to an end. _For the love o' baby Jesus._

"Why did the good Lord 'ave to go and stomp me 'ead in?" The voice groaned beside her.

Eyes still closed, a relieved breath escaped her lips. _Well. At least _that_ woke 'im up._

"I dunno, Toby. Maybe he's 'aving a bad day."

Tobias let out a high squeak that was probably a laugh, considering his fatigue. The strength of the storm above them silenced any other conversation. Both of them ached, physically and emotionally, and were decidedly drained from doing anything further.

A strange whimper came from inside the sack that was between them, and Toby turned his head, opening his eyes, puzzled.

It took him only a moment to sort it together in his head.

"Bugger!" he yelped weakly, turning the bag over so it was upright. A sulking bundle of black fur came limping out, ears drooping in discomfort and pain, very unhappy. The kitten mewed suddenly, now aware of the rain, and snuggled himself back inside of the rucksack.

Awestruck, Nellie's eyes shot open, and turned over, supporting herself with her arm.

"Bloody thing must've snuck in there when the police came..." Nellie trailed off, thoughts snaking back to Mr. Todd again. With a sigh, her keen gaze trailed upward into the clouds. _Oh, Mr. T. I am yours for all my life._

* * *

It pained Sweeney that he had been giving small, yet true affection to the wretched woman who was causing him grief. Only hours before, they both were snug together on the mattress, as if she meant something to him.

Walking on the side of the empty road, Sweeney scowled, shaking his hair of the heavy rain. "The little whore probably persuaded Lucy into..." His throat caught, the idea twisting inside of him, causing him to pulse with his wonted rage.

Todd had forced himself to cease his sobs an hour before, when he was kneeling in the grasses, as the cries that had racked his body nearly made him ill. Overstimulated and hurting, he decided that finding shelter would be the first thing to accomplish. Somewhere safe and dry where he could calm himself and focus on what must be done.

Late in the evening now, the storm didn't cease in its battle; if anything, it regained strength and was growing harsher. Dark eyes glinting maliciously, Todd was stiff and edgy as he made his way toward the town close by.

The rain, fortunately, was washing the blood from his face and hair, but it hardly benefited his appearance: His shirt was ripped and half missing, stained with blood. Todd's black pants were coming apart around the ankles and were smeared with dirt, his shoes scuffed and worn. The grimace over his face wouldn't exactly bring forth the children of the streets.

It was only then, as Todd neared the unknown village, when he remembered the reason as to why he couldn't retreat upstairs to his barber shop. He was a wanted man. Word of him had probably spread throughout London and the cities surrounding it. Aimlessly roaming the streets was no longer an option for the murderer.

Panicking for only a moment, Todd flicked his gaze to the outskirts of the town. In the darkness, he could make out the beginning of a new, winding street. He pushed himself into the shadows of his path, shivering slightly from the cold rain, until he found himself in a muddy corner. Few were outside, as no one frolicked in such weather, and this settled his apprehension.

Quickly looking around him, Todd knelt to the curb and cupped the rainy mud that was flowing down the stoned path. Much to his dislike, he smeared the mud onto his face and clothing, ripping his pants a little more. He made sure to thoroughly cover the pale streak in his hair, assuming this would be something vital in the description of his appearance.

Todd twisted his hair around to make it more disheveled, if possible, and set his jaw before setting out into the street with a slight limp. A beggar, that's all he was.

Edging towards a small Inn, he placed a weak frown upon his lips, hoping desperately that the people of the village were true Christians.

* * *

"Ya gotta hold _still_, little love," Nellie reminded, trying to sound gentle, but her patience was running thin. She had ripped a part of an old nightgown she found in her sack and was now pressing the cloth to a hefty wound on the back of Toby's head.

Squirming a little, Tobias winced, teeth clenched tight. "Ah! That 'urts, mum."

"It'll 'urt even more if ya keep movin' like that," she snapped, trying to subside the steady flow of blood. The boy shifted again in pain, and Nellie huffed, taking his chin so he could look her in the eye. She opened her mouth to speak but Toby beat her to it.

"I'm tryin', mum. Honest. It stings real bad!" he pleaded, brown eyes shining. Sopping wet, they had both moved under the branches of a large tree, and Bugger was nestled in the sack on the grass.

Nellie sighed, turning her head outward to the darkening sky. If they weren't quick enough, night would fall, and they'd both catch their deaths. Or the plague.

"Keep this on your 'ead till I say it's alright ta move it, ya hear?" Her dark eyes were exhausted and weary as they settled back on the boy, the maroon powder around them smeared and streaked.

Feeling guilty, Tobias nodded, wincing again as he shifted the cloth on his head.

Bending down and picking up the sack, Nellie peered inside at Bugger, still amazed that he wasn't harmed. Toby had made sure to check the little thing over, and he seemed alright. A tired smirk spread over her lips as she watched the furry puff snooze in one of the legs of Toby's trousers.

"I guess ye deserve to come along, since you bleedin' survived the house avalanche. Dontcha think?" She looked over to messy-haired Toby, who knew that she was only putting on a happy face for him.

"Yes mum." It was all he could say, as he watched her reach inside and pull out a glint of silver. Toby immediately stiffened. "Ow did you...?"

Nellie's face fell, surging with regret and pain again, as she opened the razor. "I took one of 'is older ones that I found the cupboard," she told him, studying it closely. She sniffed. "I thought that...that maybe 'e might need it, ya know, if he were to loose the other ones..."

Her chin quivered again, and Toby reached out to touch her arm. "It'll be alright, we'll find a way to--_mum_! What are ya doin to your 'air?!"

The baker let out a shaky sigh, watching her curls fall to the ground as she jerked the silver through her crimson tresses, "Gotta make it shorter," she mumbled, not at all pleased with her decision, "This will throw some of 'em off, 'opefully."

Toby watched in amazement as she hacked away at her red hair, cutting it so the ends rose an inch above her shoulders. She sniffed again, frowning deeply. The boy opened his mouth in protest, "But, are ya sure..?"

"Well it's too late now, innit?" Nellie retorted moodily over the loudness of the storm, running a hand through her short, wet locks, which were still crazy but not as noticeable.

She looked down, putting the razor back into side pocket of the sack, as to not hurt Bugger.

"If we're lucky, we can get some dye for the both of us, keep our 'eads down, change our looks," Nellie paused, pulling out a black knitted shawl from deep within the bag. She placed the shawl on her head and tied the ends of it under her chin, "But for now, we're Anna an' Davey Cooker, from the south."

The two of them set out into the rain again, weak and famished, but determined to survive. Within the passing moments of the evening, a few stars poked in through the billowing clouds, twinkling, watching. Ever again, devotion was what held together the threads of their strife.

Toby's devotion to his pale savior, and Nellie's devotion to the love of her life.

_I'm comin', Mr. T._

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**A/N: Well, I'm definitely sleepy now. Excuse any typos, I tried to look it over as best as I could. I'll read it again in the morning.  
Yeahh. I gots me some plans a-cookin. :)**


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